Love Fool
by Delylah
Summary: Originally written in 2004 for the Harry Potter Ginny Weasley Ficafest on LiveJournal. Challenge 25: Harry makes a love potion, and it doesn't go off as planned. Written PreHBP, takes place during Harry's 7th year and Ginny's 6th.
1. Chapter 1

_**Tuesday Morning**_

Whenever Professor Snape walked into his classroom, the students immediately fell silent, from the most jaded seventh year down to the most timid first year. Snape expected it, even demanded it, and the students knew it. Those who failed to comply were likely to find themselves scrubbing the dungeon floors armed with nothing but a toothbrush and a bit of soap. Today was no different. Snape paused a minute in the doorway, relishing the tension and fear emanating in waves from the students. Deliberately, he strode to the front, where he stood before the demonstration table and swept the entire room with an appraising eye. Just before the students snapped under the strain, he uttered a single phrase.

"Mid-term examination."

Collectively, the entire seventh year Potions class exhaled, as if they had each been holding their breath in anticipation. They remained silent, however, save for one indeterminate squeak originating near the back of the room, likely attributable to Lavender Brown.

"Your entire mid-term examination grade will be dependent upon your success, or failure, at brewing a single potion. Topics will be assigned by lottery. Each topic is designated a specific examination appointment. Students who are tardy in keeping their appointments will earn a zero." Without further comment, Professor Snape lifted a cauldron from his desk and approached Lavender, who withdrew a slip of paper with a trembling hand. Upon glancing at it, she paled, then folded the slip and tucked it into her rucksack. One by one each student followed suit, until Professor Snape reached Harry Potter.

Harry closed his eyes and crossed his fingers, then reached inside the cauldron. The slip of paper almost tingled in his hand, as if it were sentient enough to know that Harry's future as an Auror depended upon passing this exam. When Harry opened his eyes again, he glanced up to see Professor Snape smirking slightly as he moved on to the next student.

_Git, _Harry thought. In the six-and-a-half years Harry had been at Hogwarts, Snape had never treated him with anything less than contempt, even though Harry's Potions work had improved significantly during the past two years. At the beginning of his sixth year, he had been ecstatic to learn that he'd achieved an O on his Potions O.W.L. Snape had been forced to accept him into his N.E.W.T. level Potions class, which meant nothing stood to prevent Harry from pursuing his goal of qualifying for the Auror program upon leaving Hogwarts. So far, Harry's marks had been just good enough to keep Snape from drumming him out of the class. That could change, however, depending upon the outcome of this exam.

Harry took a deep breath and unfolded the slip of paper he had withdrawn from the cauldron. Then he felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach as he read the words inscribed there in Snape's precise handwriting:

**Imitor Ardoris - Wednesday, seven o'clock p.m.**

There had to be some mistake. _Imitor Ardoris_ was a love potion. Professor Snape had lectured at length upon the dangers of love potions. They were complicated to brew, the effects were unpredictable, and the potions remained stable for only a short amount of time. On top of that, Snape had voiced his opinion countless times that love potions were frivolous and a complete waste of time. On this point, Harry strongly agreed.

Next to him, Hermione was nearly thrumming with excitement. She leaned over to him and whispered, "Oh, I can't wait. This is going to be a snap. What did you get, Harry?"

As Harry started to answer, Snape's icy voice cut through the chatter that had begun increasing throughout the room. "Silence! There are several additional stipulations you are required to follow in order to achieve a passing grade on your exams. First, you will not reveal to any other person your assigned topic, nor will you solicit help from your peers in any form. Should you attempt to subvert this rule, you will find that the slip of paper you have drawn has been charmed to prevent you from discussing your subject with anyone but me until your examination is completed.

"Secondly," he continued, "you will conduct your exam at the appointed time in solitude. You will be required to bring your own supplies, so be certain you have gathered everything you need beforehand. The storeroom will be securely locked during your examinations."

_I wonder if I could switch with Lavender or Parvati?_ Harry thought.

Lavender and Parvati were taking N.E.W.T level Potions because they planned to open a beauty salon and spa in Diagon Alley after leaving Hogwarts. "Don't look down your nose at us, Harry Potter," Lavender had said when they'd announced their intentions after the career fair. "People have to play to their skills, and this is what Parvati and I are good at. Besides, in these times, we believe it's our duty to create a little sacred space where witches and wizards can come to relax their bodies and restore their spirit. Look us up this summer. You probably need our services more than anyone," she said, though not unkindly.

"Thanks. I'll do that," Harry had promised.

_I bet either of them would jump at the chance to brew a love potion for a grade,_ Harry thought. He was certain they'd already had loads of experience.

Professor Snape gave him a start when he announced, "Just in case any of you are wondering, you may not swap assignments. Again, the charms prevent you from doing so. Now, as the examinations will commence this evening after classes, you may have the rest of the class to prepare. Report to the library and remain there until the bell rings."

Harry waited until the other students had exited the dungeons before he approached Snape, who had taken a seat at his desk and appeared to be marking essays.

"What do you want, Potter?" the professor asked without bothering to look up from his work.

"I, um, I drew the _Imitor Ardoris _potion," Harry mumbled.

"And your point?" Snape asked, looking up from the essays to sneer at Harry in his usual fashion.

"I, um, I was just wondering why. Aren't love potions dangerous? And pretty much useless?"

"All potions have the potential to be dangerous, Mr. Potter. One misstep and even the most innocuous headache remedy can become a highly lethal poison. As far as usefulness goes, the _Imitor Ardoris _has its applications. For instance, let us suppose you manage to overcome your intellectual limitations, cheat death, and make it all the way through the rigorous Auror training curriculum. You're having dinner one evening with a lovely young woman whose only flaw is that she is a suspected Death Eater. What do you do?"

"Immobilize her and take her back to headquarters to be interrogated," Harry replied automatically.

Snape shook his head in disgust. "Potter, have you absolutely no imagination? No sense of finesse? Subjects under the influence of Veritaserum are only forced to reveal _precisely_ what the interrogator asks for, no more no less. For instance, if you ask a subject 'where are the Death Eater headquarters,' he doesn't have to get any more specific than 'London,' or even 'England' or even "Europe.' Interrogations are difficult to conduct when you are forced to constantly refine your questions in order to arrive at the information you desire."

"How is _Imitor Ardoris _any different?"

"The subject temporarily sees the administrator of the potion as an individual for whom they have great affection and for whom they would do anything. The effect imitates that of an intoxicant, but is much more subtle."

"Oh." This was new information to Harry. "Then why... "

"Potter, the last thing I need is a gaggle of silly school girls running about the castle brewing love potions; consequently, I do not conduct a practical lesson on the subject. However, there are few potions which test the skills of the brewer as well as a love potion. They are notoriously difficult to brew successfully; all of the midterm assignments are. Now, if you are done sniveling about your topic, get out of my sight. I have more important things to do than listen to you whinge about your assignment."

Resigned, Harry followed the rest of the class to the library. Hermione had saved him a seat next to hers at one of the tables near the back.

"What took you so long, Harry?" she asked.

"I stopped to speak to Professor Snape on the way out," Harry replied. He dropped his rucksack on the table with a resounding _thud, _earning him a _"Shush!" _accompanied by a nasty look from Madame Pince.

"Something about the assignment?" Hermione pressed.

"Yeah. I, um, I asked if I could swap appointments. Mine is tomorrow evening, and we're supposed to have Quidditch practise then." Harry knew Hermione would frown upon his having attempted to switch assignments. Besides, he really _did_ have Quidditch practise scheduled for tomorrow, he remembered. "He said no, of course. I'll have to get Ron to cover for me."

"Cover for you? Whatever for?" a new voice inquired.

Harry turned to find Ginny standing behind him, her arms loaded with a stack of books almost as tall as she was. He immediately grabbed as many as he could and carried them to the other side of the table, then pulled up a chair for Ginny next to his.

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny said, flashing him a warm smile as she sat.

"You're welcome," he replied, pleased she had joined them. "What brings you here, anyway? We never see you anymore."

Ginny made a sound of amused exasperation. "Don't be silly, Harry. You see me every day at breakfast," she reminded him.

"That doesn't count. You can't carry on a decent conversation when you're chewing."

"Well what about Quidditch? Oh, wait, you're too busy barking out orders to be social then," she ribbed. "You know, if you and Ron weren't consistently late to meals, we might have more time to talk. Besides, you're so busy with N.E.W.T.'s and...other things, I haven't wanted to bother you."

Noticing that Hermione had been watching the exchange with acute interest, Harry looked down and began rifling through one of the books she had plunked onto the table. "_Exercises in Enchantment; Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered; _and _Indelible Incantations._ What are you up to?"

Ginny lightly swatted Harry's arm. "I finished my Charms work early today, so Professor Flitwick gave me a library pass. I wanted to get started on my term-parchment. What about you two?"

"Potions mid-term examinations," Harry and Hermione said in unison.

A look of understanding crossed Ginny's face immediately. "Oh," she said. "Good luck with that, then. Now, what were you saying about Ron covering for you, Harry?"

"My exam is scheduled for tomorrow evening," Harry explained. "I won't be able to make it to Quidditch practice. I was going to ask Ron to cover for me."

"Uh-oh..." Ginny said, sounding dismayed. "I ran into Ron on the way here. I don't think he'll be able to help you out, Harry."

"What is it?" Hermione broke in, sounding worried. "Has something happened to Ron?"

"He was on his way to the hospital wing. He looked positively green, so I walked with him to make sure he didn't pass out before he could get there."

"What happened?" Hermione asked. "He was fine when we left Care of Magical Creatures this morning."

"You're studying Streelers this week, aren't you?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, nodding, "but we were wearing gloves."

"He must have come into contact with some venom somehow. He said he started feeling woozy during Divination. Trelawney thought he was finally getting in touch with his inner eye, but Madame Pomfrey said Ron had the classic signs of Streeler venom poisoning. She's given him an antidote and ordered him to remain in the infirmary until Thursday."

"Great," Harry said. "Guess I'll have to cancel practise, then. And we've got the Ravenclaw game coming up Saturday, too. Unless..." he trailed off and looked at Ginny.

"Unless what?" she asked warily.

"Ginny, could you manage practice for me tomorrow night? It's not like you'd have to do much. I can give you the playbook so you'll know which maneuvers to run. All you have to do is call the plays and just kind of keep everyone in line. It'll be great practice for when you're captain next year."

"Harry, really!" Ginny said, laughing. "You don't know that I'll make captain next year."

"Well who else would it be? Anyway, say you'll do it, please?" Harry knew he was beginning to sound desperate, but this close to a game he couldn't afford to have his team slacking off at practice.

"Oh, all right," Ginny relented. "I'll do it."

"Thanks, Gin. I knew I could count on you. " The bell rang and Harry glanced up. "I'm going to the infirmary to check on Ron. You want to keep me company?"

"I'll come with you, Harry," Hermione said. She began to gather her books together, but Ginny remained seated.

"Come on, Gin," Harry cajoled. "Classes are over for the day. Take a break."

Ginny shook her head. "Colin's supposed to meet me here; the research parchment for Flitwick is a group project. In fact," she paused and waving towards the door with a smile, "there he is now." Ginny stepped away from the table to greet her friend.

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Colin Creevey return Ginny's wave as he approached her.

_Not such a pipsqueak anymore, but still annoying,_ Harry thought unkindly.

Colin now stood a couple of inches taller than Harry, though not quite as tall as Ron. He was a nice enough bloke, but Harry couldn't help but think that he was a bit _too _friendly...especially with Ginny. Harry only hoped that he wouldn't soon find her mooning about over the other boy's "honey blond hair" and "sparkly blue eyes" as most of the other Gryffindor girls seemed wont to do.

_Nah, Ginny's much too sensible for that,_ Harry thought. _Besides, the last bloke I remember her "mooning" over was..._

"Harry, aren't you coming?" Hermione asked, interrupting his train of thought. "There are a few books I want to reserve first."

Harry nodded, then retrieved his rucksack and walked with Hermione to the desk where Madame Pince sat. Harry waited patiently while Hermione checked out a mountain of books that made Ginny's stack seem pitifully small in comparison. Fortunately, Hermione had charmed her rucksack so that it would hold them all and still be almost weightless. When they were finally ready to leave, Harry turned back to wave at Ginny, but she was engaged in conversation with Colin and didn't notice. Harry shrugged off his annoyance and followed Hermione out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2 

_**Wednesday Evening**_

_Jasmine tea, freshly brewed, as a base, 250 ml_

_Ashwinder eggs, freeze dried, 3_

_Rose hips, 10_

_Dried orange blossoms, crushed, 35 milligrams_

_Powdered moonstone, 20 milligrams_

_Snozzberries, dried, 17_

_Five strands of human hair (student will use his or her own)_

_Ugh,_ Harry thought. _Why do these things always seem to require human hair?_

It was Wednesday evening, and Harry was in the middle of brewing the _Imitor Ardoris. _He had begun with the jasmine tea. When it had steeped for five minutes, he removed the tealeaves and returned his cauldron to the fire. Then he began adding the ingredients in order of listing, beginning with the Ashwinder eggs. He was glad he had remembered to stop by Professor Snape's office and ask for them this morning; they were the one required ingredient he didn't carry in his Potions case. Well, other than his hair, of course, but that was obtained easily enough.

The eggs dissolved immediately into the tea. The rose hips had to steep for another five minutes, then he removed them and added the orange blossoms, the powdered moonstone, and the dried snozzberries. The cauldron began to give off a pleasant, fruity odor. Harry stirred gently as the potion simmered for 10 minutes. Then he added the five strands of hair he had plucked from his head earlier. They dissolved into the liquid with a slight fizzing noise, upon which the potion developed a deep, golden color. Harry extinguished the flame under his cauldron and continued to stir as the potion cooled; otherwise it would separate and be useless. He noticed the liquid continued to fizz, not unlike Butterbeer. He checked the consistency and appearance against the description in his textbook; to his delight, they matched perfectly.

When the potion had finally cooled, Harry looked around for his stoppered vial in order to dip out a sample for Professor Snape. It was nowhere to be found.

_No, I couldn't possibly have forgotten..._

Harry dumped the entire contents of his rucksack onto his station. He found a roll of blank parchment, several quills, his Charms text (which had Ron's Divination assignment tucked into it) and a few other odds and ends, including an empty Butterbeer bottle that Harry had polished off on the way to the dungeons. He did not find a stoppered vial.

_"_Dammit!" Harry shouted to the empty room.

He was required to deliver a sample of the potion to Professor Snape in order to pass the exam. Harry couldn't carry the potion through the corridors in an open cauldron; it was against school regulations. Snape would fail him on sight. Furthermore, Harry knew without asking that Snape would refuse to follow him _back _to the dungeons in order to mark his potion there. He would remind Harry that he had been responsible for gathering his supplies before the exam began and again, would take great delight in giving Harry a zero.

Harry paced, wondering if he could summon a vial from his dormitory from all the way in the dungeons. When he took stock of the number of doors the vial would have to pass through, he thought it unlikely. Then his gaze focused on the empty Butterbeer bottle.

_Why not?_ he asked himself. _I can at least try - the worst he can do is fail me, which will happen anyway unless I get this potion to him._

Harry carried the glass bottle to the sinks at the back of the room, where he carefully rinsed out the dregs of the Butterbeer. Then he used a drying charm to remove the last droplets of water, and for good measure, he added a sanitizing charm as well. He didn't want to contaminate his potion. When he was satisfied that the bottle would do, he poured the contents of his cauldron into it and tamped the cap down. Tiny bubbles floated to the top every now and then. It looked almost exactly like butterbeer.

_Bet it doesn't taste anything like it, _Harry thought, shuddering. He set the bottle on the countertop of his workstation and then busied himself tidying up, disposing of unused ingredients and scouring his implements. He had just replaced the last item in his potions kit when a knock sounded on the door. Harry opened it cautiously, expecting to see a glowering Professor Snape. Instead, he found a disheveled Ginny Weasley.

"Hi, Harry," she said brightly. "Professor Snape told me you were still down here. He asked me to tell you to hurry up, too, because your time is almost up. Only he didn't say it that nicely," she added, grinning wryly.

Harry couldn't help but grin in return. Ginny's hair was coming loose from the braid she usually wore for Quidditch practice, and he noticed there were smudges of dirt on one of her cheeks.

"Rough practice?" he asked.

"Don't get me started, Potter," she said, rolling her eyes. "You owe me one, and I fully intend to collect." Ginny took a few steps forward and glanced briefly around the room before her eyes returned to Harry. "I don't see a cauldron. Have you finished?" she asked.

"Just now," Harry answered, "but I have to drop a sample of my potion by Professor Snape's office. Let me grab my things and you can walk with me. But first..."

Harry reached up to grasp Ginny's chin and gently tilted it to one side to expose the smudges of mud on her cheek. With the sleeve of his robe, he wiped them away but discovered the faint beginnings of a bruise.

"That's going to hurt later. You should put some ice on it, or a cooling charm," he said, tracing the mark lightly with his thumb. Ginny drew back from him so that he released his grasp on her chin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, it's okay, you didn't. I, um, thanks," she said, before turning and stepping back towards the door. "Let's go," she said over her shoulder. "If we don't hurry, you'll be late."

Harry retrieved his rucksack, his potions kit and the Butterbeer bottle, then joined Ginny in the corridor, where together they set off for Professor Snape's office. As they walked, Harry gestured towards the bruise on her face. "What happened?" he asked, feeling guilty that she had been injured while covering for him.

"Jack Sloper happened, that's what," Ginny snapped. "He's had over two years; I just don't understand... I mean, how hard can it be?"

Harry groaned, almost afraid to ask for more details. "What did he do this time?"

"Well, I'll give him one thing. At least he managed to _hit _the Bludger this time," Ginny grumbled. "Of course, then he let go of his bat, which came sailing along towards me. I ducked, but I wasn't quite fast enough. The prat's lucky I didn't hex him."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, even more concerned now that he knew the details of the injury. She didn't seem to have sustained any serious damage, but he wondered if he should take her up to see Madame Pomfrey, just the same.

"I'm fine, Harry. The bat barely grazed me. Colin and I were working on the Porskoff Ploy, like you asked, and I had just caught the Quaffle. Guess that's why I didn't see it coming in time."

"I hope you gave him what for," Harry said sternly. He was seriously considering tracking down Sloper after he turned his potion in to Snape.

"Believe me, I did," Ginny replied, nodding. "Made him run laps around the pitch, too. Oh, before I forget, the reason I came down here was because Ron needs his assignments for Divination. Hermione said you were supposed to stop by Trelawney's classroom this afternoon?"

"Right, I almost forgot. I have them here, somewhere." Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor and kneeled down to rummage through his books and parchments. "Here, hold this a tick, would you?" he asked, thrusting the Butterbeer bottle at Ginny. "I would have sworn I had tucked them into my Charms text," he muttered, shifting the contents of his rucksack this way and that. "Must've got mixed up when I dumped everything out..."

"Harry, is this some sort of new flavor or something? Snozzberry, perhaps?" Ginny asked. "It's awfully sweet. And what were you doing with Butterbeer down in the potions dungeon anyway? You know Professor Snape doesn't allow food or drink in his classroom."

A sense of dread overcame Harry as he turned to look up at Ginny. She was looking down into the Butterbeer bottle. The _open_ Butterbeer bottle.

"Ginny, no!" Harry swiped the bottle away Ginny and peered into it. The bottle was half empty. Harry moaned in horror. "Oh, Ginny, you didn't."

"I didn't what?" Ginny asked, confused. "You've never had a problem with me filching Butterbeer off of you before. Afraid you'll catch my germs?" she teased.

_I can't believe this is happening,_ Harry thought. He re-capped the bottle and held it up to her. "Ginny, this isn't Butterbeer. This is my _potion_," he said fiercely.

"How was I supposed to know? It's in a Butterbeer bottle!" Ginny shot back. She cocked her head to one side and looked at the bottle, and then looked up at him contritely. "I'm sorry, Harry, but at least there's still enough of it for you to turn into Professor Snape."

"I wish it were that simple," Harry said sickly. "Ginny, you don't know what you've done."

Ginny's eyes grew larger and her hand drifted up to her throat.

"Harry, you didn't just poison me, did you?" she whispered.

"No..." Harry replied in a strangled voice. Ginny seemed relieved until he continued. "This might be worse."

"What could possibly be worse?" she asked.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but not a sound came out, no matter how hard he tried to answer her. He groaned in frustration. Snape's "forbidding" charm wouldn't dissipate until he handed the potion in for a grade.

"Harry?" Ginny prompted.

Harry finally grabbed his wand and used it to draw a heart made of glowing red and gold sparks in mid-air.

"What...?" Ginny began in confusion. Then her eyes grew round as saucers, and her mouth fell open into a round _O._

Harry grabbed her arm and began pulling her along with him her. "Come on, let's go find Professor Snape. Maybe there's an antidote."

"But your books..." Ginny warbled, seemingly incapable of forming a coherent a sentence.

"I'll get them later. Now, come on! If we hurry, maybe there's something he can do."

Harry broke into a run, forcing Ginny to follow. When they arrived at Professor Snape's office, they burst in without knocking, both huffing from the exertion. Snape's head shot up from where it was bent over his desk, and he scowled furiously at them.

"What is the meaning of this, Potter?" Snape demanded. "How dare you..."

"Ginny drank some of my potion," Harry interrupted breathlessly.

He set the half-empty bottle on Snape's desk. The professor peered at it uncomprehendingly at first, but then understanding began to dawn across his face.

"Do not tell me you were _foolish_ enough to store a potion in a _Butterbeer_ bottle," he snapped in an icy tone.

Harry looked down at his feet. Somehow, Professor Snape never failed to make him feel as clumsy and incompetent as he had his first day of class. "Yes, sir. I thought I had included a stoppered vial when I collected my supplies for the exam. Apparently I was mistaken. The empty bottle was in my rucksack, so I used it instead."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your abysmal lack of judgment, Potter. And you may expect that your midterm grade will be docked as well."

"I don't care about the points," Harry said impatiently. "I just want to know if there's an antidote for Ginny. She had no idea, it isn't fair for her to suffer for my mistake."

Professor Snape's glacial stare fell upon Ginny, who met it blankly.

"Miss Weasley, being a sixth-year potions student, and a female, you are familiar with the _Imitor Ardoris _potion, are you not?" the professor barked.

Ginny seemed to pull herself out of her shock. "The...the _Imitor Ardoris?" _she repeated.

"Yes," Professor Snape hissed.

Ginny nodded hesitantly as she answered. "Well, yes, I know it. That's the potion Harry was brewing?" she asked.

If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought she was smiling. _From hysteria, maybe,_ he thought.

"Indeed," the professor confirmed. "Miss Weasley, do enlighten Mr. Potter as to the effects of the potion, and the antidotes available."

"Once administered, the potion begins to take effect within an hour at the most. The subject will begin to experience, and act upon, feelings of love and affection for the administrator of the potion," Ginny explained, easily citing facts as if she were reading them from a textbook. "The symptoms will usually manifest as attempts to be close to the administrator, including frequent demonstrations of physical affection and flirtatious behavior. The subject will also indicate a desire to accommodate the administrator in any way possible, such as by performing tasks, providing information or fulfilling requests."

Ginny paused in her recitation, glancing over at Professor Snape. When he nodded sharply, she continued.

"_Imitor Ardoris _is one of the milder known formulations of love potions, because it simulates affection and love rather than infatuation or lust. The effects last approximately forty-eight hours. There are no known antidotes," Ginny finished.

"No antidotes?" Harry asked weakly.

_"No antidotes,"_ Snape repeated darkly.

"Then what do we do? There has to be something," Harry insisted. "Maybe I should take Ginny to the infirmary."

"Miss Weasley is not ill, nor is she a danger to herself, to you, or to anyone else. The only thing to do is to let the potion run its course." Professor Snape paused, and his lips formed into a horrible shape that could only be described as a smirk. "At least you've saved me the trouble of analyzing your potion, Potter."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Miss Weasley's behavior over the next forty-eight hours will be a perfect barometer by which to determine your grade. If the potion was viable, you'll pass. If not, you'll fail." At that, Professor Snape directed his gaze back to the parchments spread across his desk. "I have work to do. You're dismissed. Return to your common room immediately."

"What do you want me to do with that?" Harry asked, gesturing to the Butterbeer bottle.

The professor didn't bother to look up. "Leave it. I'll dispose of it properly. We certainly don't want anyone else drinking it," he said waspishly.

Harry's feet refused to move. He couldn't believe his professor's nonchalance towards the situation. It was one thing when Snape went out of his way to harass him, but this time Ginny was involved, too. Harry gaped at the professor, preparing to give him a piece of his mind, but Ginny intervened.

"Come on, Harry," she said, taking him by the arm and leading him through the door. Harry expected her to head for Gryffindor Tower, but instead she turned back towards the potions classroom.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"Your books - you just left them in the corridor," Ginny reminded him. "Did you forget?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I did," Harry replied with a sheepish grin. "I'll go get them. You should go on up to the common room and, uh, rest...or something," he finished lamely.

"Don't be silly, Harry. I feel fine. Besides, I was going to go visit Ron," Ginny protested. "I promised I'd deliver his Divination assignment."

"I can take it to him. Unless you wanted Madame Pomfrey to take a look at your face?" Harry asked, knowing that while Ginny didn't mind visiting someone in the infirmary, she hated being a patient there. Not surprisingly, she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"No, thank you," she said firmly. "I believe I'll go back up to the common room, after all. See you there."

Harry watched as she began to walk up the corridor alone. When she reached the corner, she turned once and waved, smiling, then disappeared from his sight.

_Was her smile a little too bright? And do her hips always sway like that? _Harry mused for a moment. Then he shook himself and started down the corridor in the opposite direction, wondering how he would ever make it through the next two days.

When Harry reached the Infirmary, Ron was the only patient staying overnight. Madame Pomfrey cautioned Harry to be quick, as lights-out was in a few minutes. Harry crept quietly over to his best friend's bed to discover he was sleeping.

"Psst," Harry whispered.

Ron awoke with a start and peered over at Harry with bleary eyes.

"Oh, Harry, it's you. I was having a nightmare that Millicent Bulstrode was chasing me. I think she wanted to," Ron paused, turning slightly green, "ugh, kiss me." Ron grabbed for the water glass on the nightstand next to his bed and took several deep gulps.

"Why were you dreaming about Millicent Bulstrode?" Harry asked, trying hard not to laugh at Ron's distress.

Ron grimaced. "She was here earlier, right over there," Ron replied, gesturing to the bed next to his. "Said she sprained her ankle walking to class this afternoon. I think...I think she was making googly eyes at me." Ron shuddered heavily and took several more gulps of water. "And _Goyle_ was with her. Glaring at me, he was. I think he fancies himself her boyfriend. He just stood there, smacking his fist into his palm. As if I would be interested in _Millicent."_ Ron grimaced again at the very thought. "I thought I just might kiss Madame Pomfrey when she told them Millicent could go."

_Boyfriend... Does Ginny have a boyfriend? Am I going to have to explain to some bloke why I've given his girlfriend a love potion?_ Harry wondered. _No. No. I'd know if she had a boyfriend. Now if I can just keep Ron from finding out... He's liable to hex first and ask questions later. _

Harry shook his head and groaned softly to himself.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked. "And why are you here, anyway? I thought Ginny was coming."

"Erm...well, Ginny wasn't really feeling up to it. She, uh, she took a hit during Quidditch practise," Harry began to explain, but Ron interrupted.

"Is she hurt? Why didn't you bring her down here?" he demanded.

Ron shifted his legs over the side of the bed, as if he was set to go and see about his sister himself. Harry held out a hand to stop him.

"Ron, she's fine. She was just sore, and a little tired, so I sent her up to the common room," he said.

"How did you find out about it, anyway?" Ron asked, appearing puzzled. "I thought you had a Potions examination, or something."

"Uh, well, I did," Harry hedged. The last thing he wanted to do was try to explain to Ron that he had inadvertently given his baby sister a love potion. Harry imagined that if Ron found out, no one would ever find all of his body parts. "She came by afterwards to get your Divination assignment, but she, uh, looked so knackered that I told her I'd bring it to you instead. Here," Harry said, thrusting a sheaf of parchments towards Ron.

"Thanks. You all right, Harry?" Ron asked, eyeing his friend. "You seem a little twitchy."

"Fine," Harry began in a croaky voice. "Ahem, I mean, I'm fine."

Ron didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let the matter drop. "So, what potion did you have to make? You can tell me now that it's over, can't you?"

"Uh..." Harry went blank.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to reply by the timely arrival of Madame Pomfrey, shooing him away. Harry, relieved at first, bid Ron a good night and let himself out into the corridor. Then, as he realized he must return to the common room, and Ginny, panic began to set in. He walked slowly, taking the longest possible route he knew of to get to Gryffindor Tower, even braving Peeves's water balloons and Filch's wrath to put off the inevitable as long as possible. Finally, he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, where he stopped cold, taking several deep breaths to attempt to calm his nerves.

"Whatever is wrong, dear?" she asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" Harry asked, irritated that he was so transparent.

"You're all flushed. Running a fever, perhaps? Or meeting a lady friend?" the portrait asked slyly.

"Oh, hush up, you cheeky bint," Harry grumbled.

"Oh!" the Fat Lady gasped, offended. Harry was immediately contrite.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to the lady in the portrait, who had turned her back on him. "Look, could you please just let me in? I've had a horrible day."

The Fat Lady did not turn around right away, but after a moment she relented. "Password?" she intoned icily.

"Glumbumble," Harry replied in a dismal tone.

The portrait opened to let Harry pass. He stepped quietly through the opening, hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible, but in her pique, the Fat Lady slammed shut with a loud _bang. _Students all around the room jumped in surprise, staring at him. Harry's eyes fell upon Ginny almost immediately. She was sitting with Dean Thomas and the Creevey brothers; they appeared to have been playing cards. Ginny smiled, then returned to her card game. Harry felt his cheeks redden.

"Harry. Harry? _Harry!"_

Harry snapped to attention when he realized Hermione had been calling his name. He walked quickly to where she was waiting at one of the study tables and dropped into a chair across from her. When he angled his chair just so, he could see Ginny over Hermione's shoulder. She had resumed her game and was now giggling at Dennis Creevey, who was slapping soot out of his singed eyebrows. Dean began dealing another hand to each player, and as he flipped a card towards Ginny, he gave her a wink and a grin. Ginny grinned in return, her eyes sparkling with humor. Harry wondered if Ginny always smiled that way at Dean, in a manner that was flirtatious and almost...well, almost sexy. He vaguely heard someone mumbling something across from him. Harry shook himself out of his stupor, feeling slightly queasy, and focused his attention on Hermione.

"Sorry, what?" Harry asked. Whatever Hermione had said to him hadn't registered at all.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, I think whatever you were brewing has gone to your head. I asked what potion you drew for your examination?" she repeated exasperatedly.

"Oh. I thought we weren't supposed to discuss it with anyone?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Professor Snape said we couldn't talk about it until after we had completed our examinations. I finished mine earlier today; you just finished yours. So, was it something dreadful?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Um..." Harry stalled, wracking his brain for an answer, but he knew Hermione would eventually wrangle the truth out of him. "It was _Imitor Ardoris,"_ he mumbled.

Hermione goggled at him in disbelief. "What did you say?"

_"Imitor Ardoris," _Harry repeated in a louder voice. Lavender and Parvati, who were sitting at a table behind Hermione, glanced at him, giggling. Harry flushed in embarrassment.

"Harry, that's a _love_ potion," Hermione whispered. "Are you certain you read the assignment correctly?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "I'm certain, Hermione. I even asked Snape about it because I didn't believe it myself."

"I can't believe he would assign a love potion as a midterm," Hermione mused, half to herself. "Though it makes sense, sort of. Love potions are notoriously difficult to concoct. How did it go?"

"Umm...okay, I guess," Harry muttered.

"Just okay? Do you think you passed?"

Harry was certain he felt Ginny's eyes on him, but when he risked a glance, she was chatting with her fellow card players.

_Am I imagining it, or has she scooted her chair closer to Creevey? _he thought. As he watched, Colin slipped his arm along the back of Ginny's chair. He wasn't quite hugging her, but he might as well have been, as far as Harry was concerned.

"Harry? I asked if you passed?"

"Oh. I don't know, yet, Hermione," he said, irritation creeping into his voice. _But it certainly doesn't look like it, so far,_ he thought.

Hermione turned and followed his gaze to the table where Ginny sat. She turned back to find that Harry's gaze hadn't wavered, and a knowing smile crept across her face.

"Something wrong, Harry?" she asked innocently.

"No." Harry's answer was terse. He nodded his head in the direction of the card players. "Are she and Creevey going out?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione replied breezily. "They're just friends. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Harry said. "I was just thinking it would be hard to slip a sheet of parchment between them, is all. She's practically sitting in his lap."

Hermione laughed. "Since when do you care who Ginny's chummy with, Harry?"

_Since she's supposed to be flirting with me, _Harry thought. He forced his gaze away from Ginny, but couldn't quite bring himself to look Hermione in the eye.

"I've always cared," he protested. "She's my friend, isn't she? Besides, Ron's in the infirmary. Someone's got to look out for her."

"The last thing Ginny needs is yet another big brother hanging over her shoulder, Harry," Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

"I'll say," Ginny agreed, startling Harry, who hadn't noticed her approach and stand at his elbow.

"I didn't exactly mean it that way," he muttered darkly.

"Good," Ginny said coolly. "Speaking of big brothers, did you see Ron?"

Harry nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. His pulse had begun to race the moment Ginny had appeared, and he was certain he was beginning to blush. Ginny didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, however.

"Was he all right?" she asked.

Harry swallowed to ease the tightness in his throat. "Fine. He was fine. I only stayed long enough to give him his assignment."

"You didn't mention you were going to visit Ron," Hermione said in a hurt tone. "I would have gone with you."

"But... I..." Harry stammered, unsure how to explain.

"Harry went in my place, Hermione. He thought I might not be feeling well," Ginny explained with a smirk.

"Is there a reason you might not be feeling well?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked pointedly at Harry, who flushed dully and looked away. Hermione's gaze darted between the two in apparent fascination. Ginny finally relented.

"It was nothing, really," she said. "I had a run-in with a Beater's bat at practise, that's all."

"Oh, are you okay, Ginny?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Yeah, Ginny. How are you _feeling?"_ Harry inquired sharply.

"I feel perfectly fine, Harry, no different from the way I always do," Ginny replied, laying a hand on his shoulder and gracing him with a genuine smile. "In fact, I think I'll go up to bed and get a good night's sleep. See you two in the morning." With that, Ginny waltzed up the stairs. Harry watched her go, and then he turned to find Hermione watching him, her head cocked to one side.

"Harry, is there something going on between you and Ginny?" Hermione asked. "Have you argued?"

"No, Hermione," Harry replied shortly. "Nothing is going on at all. I'm going to turn in, too. Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thursday Morning**_

Harry awoke late the next morning. Seamus, Dean and Neville were nowhere to be found; apparently they had left for breakfast without bothering to wake him. He stumbled groggily to the bathroom, where he managed to shower, dress, and brush his teeth in less than ten minutes. He was surprised to find that, like his dormitory, the common room was also deserted. Hermione and Ginny were usually waiting for Ron and him by the time they made it down the stairs. Disgruntled, he wondered if they had decided to visit Ron in the infirmary without him. It was only then that he remembered the events of the prior evening.

_Ginny...the potion...._

Harry moaned and dropped his head into his hands. As he paced around the common room, he entertained thoughts of returning to his bed and pulling the covers over his head until the next 36 hours had passed. Based on the previous night's example, he was willing to believe he had managed to flub the potion somehow. He seemed to be the last person Ginny was romantically interested in. Colin and Dean, however, would apparently pass the examination with flying colors, had Ginny drunk _their_ potion.

_What if the potion made her fall in love with everyone but me?_ Harry wondered, on the verge of panic. _No, that's impossible. I know I brewed that potion properly. It probably just hadn't time to take effect last night. This morning will be different, I'll bet. And Snape should be at breakfast. He'll be able to witness the potion's effects, give me my grade, and then I can hide until this is all over._

_Or not,_ a voice deep inside him said. _After all, how bad can it be? Who wouldn't enjoy having a girl fall all over him? Especially one as pretty as Ginny._

Harry tried to bury that thought as deeply as he possibly could. Ginny was his friend, one of his closest, next to Ron and Hermione. It would be wrong to take advantage of the current situation. On the other hand, his future depended upon passing this examination, and he wouldn't be able to pass by avoiding Ginny. After steeling his resolve, Harry stepped through the portrait hole and sprinted towards the Great Hall. He arrived to find that Neville had taken Ron's usual seat next to Hermione, but Harry's place next to Ginny was still open. He walked up and stood next to her expectantly. When she didn't seem to notice him, he cleared his throat.

"Good morning," he said in what he hoped was a normal voice.

"'Morning, Harry," Ginny chorused along with Hermione and Neville. She didn't even bother to pause as she buttered a slice of perfectly golden brown toast. When Harry still didn't sit, she glanced up at him. "You need an invitation, or something?" she asked, nodding her head at his customary seat.

Harry was rapidly growing tired of flushing around Ginny Weasley. "'Course not," he mumbled, and slid into the seat next to her.

Ginny polished off her toast then began to butter the remaining slice on her plate. This slice, however, she handed to Harry.

"Thanks," he said, surprised. He began munching on the toast as he looked around to see if Professor Snape had noticed the exchange. He hadn't. Instead, he appeared to be deeply engrossed in conversation with Professor Dumbledore.

Ginny made a waving motion with her hand and replied, "Don't mention it. You were running so late this morning; I reckoned if I didn't save you something, you'd go hungry. You can have that bit of bacon, too. What kept you, anyway?"

"I, uh, just overslept is all," Harry explained, hoping he sounded nonchalant. _Now this is more like it,_ he thought as he finished the toast and reached for a piece of the bacon Ginny had saved for him. _I knew that potion was bound to work, eventually._

"Lazybones," Ginny teased, laughing. "I always thought Ron was responsible for your being late to breakfast in the mornings. Here it turns out the problem lies with you. Oh, before I forget," Ginny braced a hand against Harry's forearm as she leaned down to retrieve the rucksack she had tucked under the bench, "Colin and I sketched out a few ideas for some new plays during practice last night. I wanted to show them to you."

Ginny pulled several parchments from her bag and passed them over to Harry, moving closer to look on with him as he read over her notes. Harry found himself extremely conscious of the faint pressure of Ginny's shoulder where she leaned against his arm, and a faint aroma of strawberries wafted under his nose. Rather than perusing the parchments before him, he found himself wondering whether the scent was in her shampoo or her perfume. He became vaguely aware that she had reached across to point out a particular sketch on the parchment and was speaking to him about it. When he failed to respond she lightly touched his arm to gain his attention.

"Harry? What do you think?" she asked.

"Delicious," Harry mumbled unintentionally.

Ginny looked up from her parchments in surprise. "What did you say?" she asked. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards in the beginnings of a faint smile, and her eyes sparkled with humor.

Oops.

"Um, I meant the plays. They're...delicious. Muggle slang," Harry explained sheepishly.

Ginny's smile seemed to fade slightly. "Oh," she said, nodding. "I haven't heard that one before. I'll have to remember to tell Dad."

Harry glanced across the table to find Hermione looking at him strangely. She arched one eyebrow at him and mouthed, "Delicious?"

Harry merely shrugged before turning his attention back to Ginny.

"So, they're good, then?" she asked as she glanced up at him. "The plays, I mean."

Ginny didn't seem to be conscious of the fact that her hand was still resting upon Harry's forearm; she had squeezed gently as she had asked his opinion. Harry's mouth went dry, and he quickly looked back down at the parchments to study them more closely. He was surprised and delighted to find that, indeed, they were very good.

"Ginny, these are great! Did you really just write these up last night?"

"Well, yes, but I've been working them out in my head for a while," she answered, blushing at the praise.

_I haven't seen her do that since she was in third year,_ Harry thought. _She's even prettier when she blushes._

"They're great," he repeated stupidly, floundering for something else to say. "We should use them in the game Saturday."

"Oh, but Harry we haven't practiced these," Ginny protested. "And you haven't seen this part."

Ginny touched her wand to the topmost parchment, which caused several of the marks representing the players to float upwards into the air, swirling about one another in perfect imitation of Quidditch players swooping and diving over the pitch. As he watched, a crimson-colored "G" maneuvered over one mark then under another, while a "Q" bobbed back and forth between it and two other marks. Harry followed the movements closely, impressed.

"I think we can do it, Ginny. I'll book the pitch for an extra hour today and tomorrow," Harry decided. Ginny groaned in response.

"The rest team will be positively thrilled about that," she said sarcastically.

"They will if they want to win," Harry retorted.

"Just don't tell them the extra practice is my fault. I'll never hear the end of it," Ginny grumbled.

Despite her complaints, Harry could tell she was happy. Her smile had widened once more, and he basked in the pleasure of having Ginny's attention focused solely upon him. He knew that his face had probably bloomed red once more, but at the moment, he didn't care. He felt a warm sensation wash over him, beginning at the very spot where her hand rested upon his arm. When he glanced down, he marveled at how small her hand was, noticing the lack of polish the other girls seemed so fond of. Even Hermione's nails were usually coated with a pale pink color. Ginny's nails were bare and trimmed short, and her fingers were callused from hours of practice with the Quaffle. Unthinking, Harry reached to cover her hand with his own, but at that moment the warning bell for their first lesson sounded. Ginny flicked her wand at the parchment, and the letters fell back to their places immediately. When she shifted away from Harry, her hand fell away from him, leaving him with the odd feeling that something was missing. She slipped off of the bench and bent down to retrieve her rucksack.

"Damn! I should have left five minutes ago, Harry," Ginny fretted as she straightened once more. "Trelawney predicted yesterday that I'd be late for Divination, and I make it a point never to prove her right."

Harry stood, too, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched. "I'll walk with you."

Ginny looked at him strangely. "Harry, don't be silly. You have Herbology in Greenhouse Three. You'd never make it on time."

"Professor Sprout won't mind," Harry assured her. "I wanted to ask you about that second maneuver. We can talk on the way."

"Ready, Ginny?" a new voice asked.

Harry swung around to find Colin Creevey waiting nearby.

"Sure Colin," Ginny replied cheerily. "Let's go."

"But, Ginny..." Harry began.

"We can talk later, Harry, perhaps at lunch?" Without waiting for an answer, Ginny turned and hurried off with Colin, calling back over her shoulder, "See you then!"

Harry watched them go, gritting his teeth when he saw Ginny slip her arm into the crook of Colin's elbow. When they finally disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall, he turned to find Hermione had also stood and was waiting for him across the table. Harry gathered his own rucksack and nodded towards the doors, where he met Hermione moments later. She paused to wait for him to open the door, but he hesitated.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied shortly. Hermione wrinkled her brow in apparent disbelief, but he changed the subject abruptly. "Did you, um, notice anything different about Ginny this morning?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Harry glanced around to see if anyone was listening. "I mean, was she behaving any differently? Towards me?" Harry explained.

Hermione pondered her answer for a moment, and then replied with a soft smile, "No, Harry. She seemed just like she does every other morning."

"But what about..." Harry began, but then trailed off, realizing how ridiculous he would sound if he asked, _What about the toast? And the touching? And the leaning?_

Harry's eyes wandered to the head table, where he saw Professor Snape watching him, a faint gleam of smug amusement visible in his eyes. Harry sighed and opened the door.

"Never mind," he said. "Let's just get to Herbology."

* * *

Herbology had never seemed to pass more slowly for Harry. They had been studying carnivorous plants since the beginning of the term, and Professor Sprout was conducting a review session prior to their midterm examination, which was scheduled for Monday. After she finished lecturing, she assigned most of the students housekeeping tasks around the greenhouses and sent the rest on errands to replenish Professor Snape's stores. Harry was given the responsibility of pruning the self-ambulatory plants, including the Tip-Toeing Tulips, the Jumping Beans, and a dubious looking specimen known simply as The Creep.

"Careful, Potter," the professor warned. "The Creep has been known to grow attached rather quickly, so don't stand in one place for too long."

Harry discovered what she meant several minutes later, as the plant, purring softly, started winding tendrils around his ankles while stray fronds stroked his arms. Harry began snipping more hastily, shifting rapidly from one side of the plant to the other until he was done. Professor Sprout complimented his work.

"Very nice, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor. Make sure you leash it properly before you move on to the tulips, mind you."

Harry spent the next twenty minutes chasing the tulips about the green house, snipping blooms off where he could. The fragrance made his head spin pleasantly, and he remembered that Ginny had once mentioned a preference for tulips. Professor Sprout smiled knowingly when he asked if he could keep the blossoms he'd trimmed, and when Harry left the greenhouse, he was carrying a fragrant bouquet tied with a bit of ribbon the professor had scrounged from the supply cabinet. Hermione had been excused early in order to research a project in the library for Arithmancy. She had been spending most of her spare time there lately, when she wasn't tucked in some corner with Ron, exchanging kisses.

Harry began whistling to himself as he walked quickly through the halls. He intended to catch Ginny on the way to her next class, which was Potions, so he surmised that the best course of action would be to simply wait for her in the dungeons. Harry propped himself up against the stone wall and tucked the bouquet behind his robes. Before long, he heard a familiar, feminine laugh, accompanied by a deeper rumble.

"Colin Creevey, I can't believe you just said that!" Ginny exclaimed as she came into view. Her face was flushed pink, though whether from pleasure or embarrassment, Harry couldn't say.

"Why not? It's true!" Colin retorted.

"That doesn't mean.... Oh, hello, Harry. What are you doing down here?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Oh, uh, nothing, really," Harry mumbled. He looked hard at Colin. "Creevey, I didn't know you were taking sixth-year Potions."

"I'm not," Colin replied blandly. "But Ginny left Divination late and she hates--"

"Colin, you'd better get to your lesson," Ginny interrupted. "I don't want you to be late on account of me."

"All right, then. See you, Ginny." Colin started off, but then he turned back. "Oh, by the way, Harry, Ginny said we were having an extra-long practice tonight, is that right?"

"Yes," Harry replied tersely. "Starting directly after classes this afternoon. We're going to be practicing the maneuvers the two of you drew up last night, so don't be late."

"Aye, Captain." Colin snapped to attention and saluted, then grinned broadly at Ginny before walking off. Harry was glad to see him go, but he couldn't help but wonder what the other boy would have said if Ginny had allowed him to continue earlier. He waited until Colin was out of earshot to ask.

"Ginny hates what?"

"Potions," Ginny replied without hesitation. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Well, yes, but that's no reason for Creevey to walk all the way down to the dun-"

The answer hit Harry like a ton of bricks, and he took a good look around to confirm his suspicion. The walls were cold and dank. Dimly flickering torches cast eerie, moving shadows, and the air smelled unpleasantly of mildew and rot. He looked back at Ginny.

"The dungeons remind you of the Chamber, don't they?" he asked quietly.

Ginny's jaw clenched briefly, but she answered in an off-hand manner, "Most stinky, dark places do. It's no big deal, really. Colin insists on escorting me. He still remembers how hard it was for me to even walk down here during second year."

_And I was too busy being worried that Sirius wanted to kill me to notice,_ Harry thought. He felt a pang in his heart, but he wasn't certain if it was caused by the memory of his godfather, or the thought of twelve-year-old Ginny forced to confront her worst memories on a daily basis. He could remember how unpleasant he had found the dungeons after the events that had transpired in the Chamber, and he felt like an idiot for never having considered how Ginny must have been affected. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Ginny stopped him.

"Harry, it was a long time ago. I'm fine. And you _still_ haven't answered my question," she reminded him, shifting her rucksack so that she could lean a shoulder against the wall next to him.

"What question?" he mumbled, distracted by the curve of her hip jutting away from the wall.

"What are you doing down here? Don't you have Care of Magical Creatures now?"

Harry was oddly pleased by the fact that she automatically knew which lesson he had next.

_You knew she had Potions,_ a small voice piped up in his head. He ignored it in favor of answering Ginny.

"I was, well, I was looking for you. Here."

Harry thrust the bouquet of tulips unceremoniously at Ginny, whose eyes widened in surprised pleasure.

"Oh, Harry, they're gorgeous. But...why?" she asked, puzzled by the gesture.

Harry looked down at his feet, embarrassed by his impulsiveness. "They're Tip-Toeing Tulips, from the greenhouse. Professor Sprout had me pruning them today, and I thought you might like them. Besides," he continued, thinking quickly, "I owe you. For taking over practice last night."

"You don't owe me anything, Harry. I was glad to help." Ginny held the bouquet to her nose and inhaled delicately. "Mmm, they smell wonderful. But there was no need for you to walk all the way down here. You could have given them to me later."

"Seeing you smile was worth it," Harry said softly with a shy smile of his own. Then, to cover his lapse into sentimentality, he hurriedly continued, "Besides, they would have wilted."

Ginny shook her head ruefully. "Harry, it's a wonder you made it into N.E.W.T. level Herbology."

She pulled her wand from her robes and waved it over the bouquet, chanting _"Floridus Sempiternus."_ The flowers visibly perked up, opening to their fullest point and taking on a faint sheen.

"Everlasting blooms," Harry said sheepishly. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Ginny didn't answer. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned against Harry to place a kiss on his cheek. Her lips lingered for a moment, and when she drew back, she said in a low voice, "Thank you, Harry." Without another word, she turned and walked the rest of the way towards the Potions classroom.

Of its own accord, Harry's hand drifted to the spot on his cheek that still tingled from the pressure of her kiss. He'd not had time to react before she left, but, as he had earlier that morning, he felt a pleasurable warmth pulsing through his body, intensifying in the places where her frame had pressed against his. He was startled to hear another set of footsteps in the corridor, followed by the one voice in the world he wanted to hear least at that moment.

"Touching. Simply touching," Professor Snape mocked. "But if you think that little display was enough to earn you a passing grade on your examination, you're gravely mistaken."

Harry hadn't thought about the exam or the _Imitor Ardoris_ potion since he'd left the common room that morning. Now, angered by Snape's condescending tone, he spat back venomously.

"And why not? What do I have to do, shag her in the middle of class?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter. You will not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner," the professor snapped.

When Harry muttered a grudging, "Sorry," Snape continued.

"A mildly affectionate gesture spawned by gratitude is hardly enough to convince me that Miss Weasley was acting under the influence of your potion. Thus far, the only person I've seen making any romantic overtures...is you."

Harry's mouth fell open again, but he was unable to voice any evidence to the contrary. With a satisfied smirk, Professor Snape proceeded to the potions classroom. Harry refrained from punching the wall, and instead set off towards Hagrid's hut, hoping his friend would overlook his tardiness.

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures passed in a blur. More than once he caught himself lifting his hand to the spot where Ginny's lips had met his cheek, and once Hermione had nudged him out of a dazed stupor when Hagrid called on him. She gently chided him for his inattention as they were leaving.

"I think Hagrid's feelings were hurt, Harry. You usually enjoy his classes," she said with a concerned frown.

"I'll apologize later," Harry said roughly. "Come on or we'll miss lunch."

"We have plenty of time." Hermione came to a standstill and caught the sleeve of Harry's robe so that he had to stop, too. "Harry, is something bothering you? You can tell me if there is, no matter what it might be."

"No," Harry answered slowly, drawing the syllable out. "What makes you think there is?"

"You're not usually this distracted. Ever since about the middle of sixth year, you've been so intense, so focused, it's almost frightening," Hermione said with a slight shiver. "But today, and last night, too, you've been behaving, well, oddly."

"There's nothing wrong, Hermione. Really. I'd tell you if there were. Now, can we please go?" Harry pleaded. "I'm starving."

Hermione sighed and followed Harry into the Great Hall, where she looked forlornly at the empty spot where Ron should have been.

"I'm not hungry, really," she murmured to Harry as they approached the Gryffindor table. "I think I'll check on Ron, instead, and take him something to eat. He was complaining this morning because Madame Pomfrey brought him corned beef last night."

"Want some company?" Harry asked.

"No, that's all right. Between lessons and Quidditch practice and Prefect duties, I hardly ever have him all to myself, so I might as well take advantage of the opportunity," Hermione said, her cheeks pinkening slightly. She selected a plate and filled it, then covered it with a napkin before departing for the hospital wing.

Harry stood still, considering the two empty seats across from Ginny and the one next to her. He didn't recall exactly when he had fallen into the habit of sitting next to Ginny. Sometime over the past two years, he and Hermione had simply traded spaces across the table, around the time Hermione and Ron had finally given up all pretense and admitted how they felt about one another. Harry had been uncomfortable with the shifting dynamics of their group initially, but he had gradually become used to the changes. He and Ginny often found themselves studying together or just sitting quietly in the common room whenever Ron and Hermione were occupied with prefect duties.

At first, Ginny had been content to let him brood silently during these occasions. Harry remembered the evening she had finally had enough, during his sixth year and Ginny's fifth. The common room had been empty, save for himself and Ginny, as it was nearing curfew, and Harry's gloom had a tendency to drive their housemates to their dormitories fairly early. Harry was staring morosely into the fire, rehashing the night at the Ministry of Magic, wondering what he could have done differently. Ginny, who had been reading next to him on the sofa, suddenly slammed her book shut and stalked up the girl's staircase. Harry stared after her, mystified when she reappeared after a few moments carrying her Cleansweep.

"Here, hold this," she commanded, thrusting the broom at Harry. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and stomped up the boy's staircase. This time when she returned, she was carrying Harry's Firebolt.

Harry sat dumbly, waiting for an explanation.

"It doesn't do any good to dwell on things you can't change, Harry," Ginny said in an exasperated tone. "Get off your sorry arse and let's go flying,"

When Harry finally found his voice, he asked, "Are you mad?"

"Probably, but either way, it's beside the point. Now, _come on."_ Ginny grabbed his hand and tugged until he stood. Mutely, he traded her Cleansweep for his Firebolt, then was further dumbfounded when she produced the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak with a flourish.

"I believe this is all the equipment we'll need, right?" Ginny asked impishly.

Harry nodded vaguely, then a thought occurred to him. "Erm, Ginny?"

"What?"

"In case you haven't noticed, that cloak isn't large enough to cover both of us _and_ two broomsticks."

Ginny considered the cloak, twirling a strand of her flame-red hair around her index finger as she did so.

"Hmm, you're right. No matter." She shrugged and drew her wand, brandishing it at Harry's broomstick. _"Reducio!"_

Harry's broomstick promptly shrunk to approximately the size of his wand. He examined it carefully and, finding no apparent ill effects, slid it into his pocket next to his wand. Ginny performed the charm on her own broom, and then together they slipped under the cloak and made their way through the castle out to the Quidditch pitch. Once there, Harry turned to Ginny, still bewildered.

"Ginny, it's dark. We can't fly out here in the dark."

"I know it's dark, Harry. But look, there's a full moon tonight." Ginny pointed up to the pale orb shining brilliantly above their heads, casting a faint silvery glow upon the grounds. "There's plenty of light."

Harry continued to protest. "We shouldn't be out here. It's against the rules."

"Don't give me that, Harry," Ginny answered, her voice raising a notch. "Rules have never stood in your way before, at least not when there was something important at stake."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Maybe I learned my lesson the last time!" he nearly shouted. "What the hell did you bring me out here for? What's so important that's worth getting caught, Ginny?"

"You are!" Ginny yelled back. "I'm sick of watching you eat yourself up with guilt. Ron and Hermione keep saying that you just need time, but it's been five months and you're not getting any better! You won't look at anyone, you won't talk to anyone, you hardly eat anything at meals, you don't go to classes and you've all but given up on Quidditch. All you do is brood. You're killing yourself, Harry, and I won't let you!"

Harry stepped towards her, but Ginny held her ground. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked in a dead tone. "None of that seems to matter much anymore."

"Then that means Tom wins," Ginny replied softly. "Maybe you don't care about that, but I do. He's taken too much from me already. I won't let him have you, too, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming back to the land of the living!"

Harry had closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion weighing on his entire frame. "You don't understand.... Ginny, I'm just so tired of it all."

Ginny's voice had come to him in the darkness, full of compassion and understanding. "Of course I understand, Harry."

And he was reminded once again, she really did understand. And she hadn't given up. Knowing that, how could he? Harry opened his eyes again and studied her face. For the first time he noticed that her nose was sprinkled with exactly seven freckles, which appeared platinum against her pale skin in the moonlight. Her dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and as he watched, one spilled over and trailed down her cheek. She turned sideways and wiped it away angrily, muttering something under her breath that he couldn't quite make out, but he thought he caught the word "stupid" in there, somewhere. Harry sighed, hating himself for making her cry. Ginny never let anyone see her cry, not since that horrible night in the Chamber.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, defeated.

Ginny looked up with renewed hope in her eyes. "Just fly with me, Harry. That's all I'm asking."

"Let's go, then."

Harry retrieved his broomstick from his pocket and cast the Engorgio charm on it to return it to its original size. Once Ginny had done the same, they mounted their brooms and glided upwards into the air, spiraling around the Quidditch pitch in silence. It was quiet, except for the sound of the wind caressing his face, and for the first time since Sirius had died, Harry felt a sense of peace steal over him, relaxing muscles that he hadn't even realized were tense. Across from him, Ginny smiled.

"Ready for something different?"

"Depends. What did you have in mind?" Harry asked warily.

"This." Ginny reached into her robes and drew out an object that was vaguely Snitch-sized - but it was glowing faintly green in the darkness. Harry flew closer and realized it was a glow-in-the-dark golf ball.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"Charlie," Ginny replied matter-of-factly. "At home, he used to practice with them at night. We would sneak out when everyone else was asleep. Usually I'd just watch him, but sometime I managed to talk him into letting me fly Bill's broom."

"No wonder you made Seeker last year," Harry said, grinning at the thought of Ginny chasing golf-balls with her older brother.

"So, think you've got what it takes, Potter?" Ginny challenged.

"Anything you can do, Weasley," Harry shot back.

Wordlessly, Ginny drew back her arm and let fly with the golf ball. Harry's eyes tracked its path briefly, and then he was off after it, tearing through the darkness without a second thought. Unlike the Snitch, the glowing green ball began to drop almost immediately; Harry had to dive steeply in order to catch up to it. He experienced a moment of near panic when he realized he wasn't certain where he was in relation to the ground, but then he caught the snitch and veered away, up into the sky again, exhilaration singing through his veins. He felt alive again. He flew back to where Ginny was hovering high above the center of the pitch, and he tossed her the ball.

"Again," he said.

Ginny grinned widely and drew out another ball. "Race you," she said mischievously, tossing the first ball back to Harry.

"You're on," Harry answered.

Together, they released the balls into the darkness again. Over and over that night they had swooped and dived, often missing the ground by mere inches, until Harry had finally guided his broom to the middle of the pitch, where he dismounted and collapsed to the ground wearily. Ginny soon joined him, stretching out into the grass and gazing up at the stars. After a few moments, she prodded him with her toe.

"Had enough?" she asked impishly.

"Yes. I'm beat. I think you'll have to carry me back to the castle," Harry groaned. He hadn't trained so hard in ages, and it had felt _good._

"Only if you carry me first," Ginny replied.

They lay quietly for several more minutes until Harry's heart was no longer racing from the exertion of Seeking. He began to focus on the sounds around him: the rustling of the trees in the wind, crickets chirping, distant calls from unknown creatures in the Forbidden Forest, and the faint rhythm of Ginny's respiration nearby. He rolled onto his side and peered over at her. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't react to his scrutiny.

"Ginny? You asleep?" Harry whispered.

"No," she answered softly. "Just thinking. I feel better, y'know?"

"Yeah. So do I. Thanks, Ginny."

"Anytime, Harry."

And so they had become friends. On the evenings when Ron and Hermione were occupied with their prefect duties (or simply preoccupied with each other) Harry and Ginny would argue about Quidditch teams, help each other with homework, or play pranks on the unsuspecting couple. Over the course of Harry's sixth year, Ginny had eased herself into his inner circle, and he was glad to have her there.

_And now Colin is trying to steal her away underneath my nose,_ Harry thought. _And __**why**__ isn't that bloody potion working properly?_

He experienced a surge of jealousy as he watched Ginny chatting animatedly with Colin. Pass or not, he refused to vie for her attention like a lovesick prat. He turned to make his way around to the other side of the table, but Ginny's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Harry, where are you going? Sit down," she invited, patting the seat next to her.

Harry hesitated for a moment; then he slid into the seat next to Ginny and began filling his plate without a word. Ginny looked on, passing him dishes of his favorite foods before he had a chance to ask for them.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled after she had poured him a glass of pumpkin juice.

"You're welcome. Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, now?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing's bothering me," Harry replied, in what he hoped was a casual manner.

Ginny started to respond, but just then Colin got up to leave the table. Ginny turned and spoke to him briefly, then waved as he left. When she turned back to Harry, he could see that she hadn't believed him.

"Look, Harry, I _know_ something is bothering you. And I think I know what that something is, too."

Harry swallowed hard, and the mashed potatoes he had just eaten became a rock solid lump in his throat. "You...you do?" he croaked.

"Of course. You're afraid because of the potion I'm going to do something to embarrass you any minute now, aren't you?"

"Uh..."

"You don't have anything to worry about, Harry. I have a little more self control than that, you know," Ginny said in a wryly.

"Ginny, I'm not worried about that at all," Harry assured her, thinking to himself that she could not have been more wrong.

"You're not?" Ginny asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"No. Why should I be embarrassed if a pretty girl decides to shower me with attention all of a sudden? Especially when my grade depends on it," he added, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice to wash the leaden mashed potatoes down.

"Oh." Ginny seemed at a loss for words, which was unusual for her. The expression on her face was unreadable, a cross between perplexity and indignation. "Even so, you don't have anything to worry about."

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ Harry thought, but he didn't press the matter with Ginny. What could he do, after all?

Without the usual interruptions from Ron and Hermione, they finished lunch quickly. Ginny stood to go, reaching down for her rucksack. When she straightened, the strap on her shoulder snapped, causing the bag to spill its entire contents onto the floor of the Great Hall.

"Oh, damn," Ginny muttered under her breath. She stooped down low and began gathering the scattered parchments, textbooks and quills.

"Here, let me," Harry said.

He abandoned the bench and bent down to help Ginny, whose face had turned a deep crimson. When he finished, he swished his wand at the tattered bag.

_"Reparo,"_ he intoned. The fibers of the broken strap began to re-weave themselves back together until the fabric was whole again.

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny said quietly. She straightened and brushed at her robes. "I'm surprised this old thing hasn't buckled under protest already. It was Bill's when he was at Hogwarts," she explained, her blush deepening even further.

"It won't hold forever, but it'll do until we can get you a new one. I imagine we could find something at Gladrags in Hogsmeade to replace it, unless you'd rather wait until we can go to Diagon Alley."

"Gladrags? Harry, I can't afford Gladrags," Ginny protested.

"You can't, but I can." Harry swung her rucksack over his own shoulder, then caught Ginny by the elbow and began leading her towards the door. "Transfiguration next, right?" he asked.

"Yes, but you don't have to walk me, Harry. Shouldn't you be getting to your next lesson?"

"We still have a few minutes 'til the next bell. Besides, I can't guarantee my weaving skills. I wouldn't want you to be late if your strap breaks again," Harry said as he steered her gently in the right direction. As they reached the door, it swung open suddenly to reveal Professor Snape, who stopped in his tracks and looked pointedly at the two rucksacks slung over Harry's shoulder, then at Harry's hand guiding Ginny's elbow. His only response was to arch one eyebrow in Harry's direction before continuing toward the head table.

_He has a point,_ the now-familiar voice said inside Harry's head. Harry ignored it and escorted Ginny to Professor McGonagall's classroom, where he returned her rucksack to her.

"Thanks, Harry. I appreciate your help. And about Gladrags..."

"Not a word about it," Harry insisted.

"But Harry..."

Harry turned and began walking away. "See you at practice," he called back over his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thursday Afternoon**_

The minute his last class ended, Harry scrambled to return to his dormitory to change for Quidditch practice. He was looking forward to watching Ginny demonstrate the new plays they had discussed at breakfast. He dressed rapidly, then grabbed his broom and departed, leaving a still half-dressed Ron behind. He hoped that the rest of the team members would be late so that he might have a few minutes to speak to Ginny alone. About what, he wasn't certain, but it had occurred to him that anytime he and Ginny were together, there always seemed to be someone else around.

As Harry drew closer to the pitch, he was disappointed to realize that today would be no different. Ginny was already there, yes, but so was Colin Creevey. The two of them were racing above the pitch. Ginny was tossing golf balls at Colin, who was diving after them. As Harry looked on, Ginny threw one that sailed far over Colin's shoulder. She called out an apology, then she swooped into a steep dive to retrieve the ball before it hit the ground. Harry's entire body tensed as he watched her spiral towards the earth. He closed the rest of the distance to the pitch at a dead run, determined to somehow keep her from killing herself. At the last second, Ginny plucked her prey out of the air, then pulled out of the dive as hard as she could, missing the ground by no more than a few inches. Harry skidded to a halt, feeling foolish. Ginny noticed him standing below and motioned for Colin to land.

"Hi, Harry!" Ginny said, greeting him with a smile as she tossed him the golf ball she had just risked her neck to catch. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. That was a nice dive. Angling for my position, are you?"

Ginny laughed and shook her head.

"Not interested. I was just helping Colin practice. He said he may try out for Seeker next year, after you leave."

"I've got nothing on you, though, Gin," Colin interjected as he walked up next to Ginny and slung his arm around her shoulders. "That dive was incredible! Harry's right. I bet you could give him a run for his money."

"Not likely," Ginny replied in a wry voice. She made no move to dislodge Colin's arm from her shoulders, but instead, she gave him a slight bump with her hip. In retaliation, Colin attempted to pull her into a headlock, which Ginny escaped from easily. As he watched their antics, Harry found himself clenching the handle of his broomstick, imagining it was Colin's neck. Fortunately, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team members began arriving, forcing Harry to abandon his thoughts of homicide. To Harry's surprise, Ron was with them.

"Ron, did Madame Pomfrey clear you for practice this afternoon?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Well, I didn't give her much of a choice about it," Ron explained. He leaned over and whispered, _"Millicent came back."_

Harry nodded in understanding. "Glad you're feeling better."

"So am I. What's this about an extra-long practice?"

"Ginny and Colin have been working on some new moves for the Chasers. I want to implement them during Saturday's game with Ravenclaw. They're difficult, but I think if we work hard today and tomorrow we can pull it off."

"Sounds like you just need the Chasers, then. Can't you give the rest of us a break?" a voice called from the back of the group.

"Sloper, based on what I've heard of your performance last night, I'm inclined to make you stay even longer than everyone else," Harry retorted.

Jack closed his mouth and hung his head.

"Anyone else want to argue?" Harry snapped. "No? Good. The next person to utter a single word of complaint is going to be running laps around the pitch for the next hour."

The disgruntled players remained completely silent, surprised by his outburst. Even Ron appeared to be taken aback. Harry didn't bother to examine the reasons for his sudden moodiness. He had a Quidditch game to win.

At a signal from Harry, all of the players took to the air. They gathered in a circle above the pitch, with Ginny and Colin in the middle. Ginny produced the sketch she and Colin had drawn up and proceeded to charm it so that the entire team could see the plays they would be working on. Once everyone understood their roles, Harry instructed them in a scrimmage, then took a position higher up so that he could observe the team at work.

Ginny flubbed the first attempt she made at a barrel roll pass above Colin's head. She overshot and wound up dropping the Quaffle so far in front of him that he was unable to catch it before another player intercepted the pass.

The second time, however, the play came off like clockwork. She timed the maneuver perfectly so that Colin was in possession of the Quaffle as soon as he was in scoring position. Her face gleamed in triumph. Harry called a halt in the play to congratulate her.

"Great job, Gin. Now let's see Colin try it."

Colin was far less successful than Ginny. He made four attempts before he was able to pull the maneuver off properly. Twice he dropped the Quaffle behind Ginny; once, he forgot to drop it at all. When he was finally successful, Ginny zoomed towards him on her broom and hugged him tight. Harry's head began to ache from clenching his jaws together.

"Good show, Creevey. Let's work on the next play now."

This time Harry put Colin to work with his brother Dennis, who was the third Chaser on the team. They were to fly in tandem, passing the Quaffle back and forth. Ginny's role was to fly under them, then at the last minute swoop up between them and grab the Quaffle to score. Unfortunately, as Ginny was set to make her move, Jack Sloper aimed a Bludger at Colin.

"Colin, watch out!" Ginny called

Colin had already let go of the Quaffle. Ginny swerved towards him out of concern, and missed the pass entirely. Harry saw the entire exchange. He brought the game-play to a halt and zoomed over to where the Chasers hovered.

"Ginny, what the hell were you doing?" he yelled.

Ginny appeared bewildered by Harry's outburst, but she answered calmly, "Just warning Colin, Harry. Same as you would do."

"You were supposed to be watching the Quaffle, not Creevey! Let him worry about the Bludgers. Your job is to make certain that ball goes through the hoop."

"I know what my job is, Harry," Ginny replied icily.

"Then act like it. I don't know about you, but I'd like to _win_ on Saturday. That certainly won't happen if you play then the way you did just now."

"As long as you do _your_ job and catch the Snitch, winning won't be a problem," Ginny shot back.

Harry loomed closer, furious at her remark, even if it was the truth. "I want twenty laps around the field, Weasley. _Now,"_ Harry ordered as he pointed towards the end of the field.

Ginny's eyes flared, and her lips pressed together in a thin line. She didn't argue with Harry, however, she simply aimed her broom for the ground at the end of the pitch, where she dismounted and began running laps. By the time she had finished, Harry had called an end to practice. When he approached her, she refused to make eye contact with him, marching off towards the castle instead without a word to anyone.

"Ginny, I want to talk to you," Harry called.

She didn't stop. She didn't even make any indication that she had heard him. Harry started after her, but Ron placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I wouldn't just now, if I were you," he cautioned.

Harry made a noise of disgust and began gathering the different Quidditch balls together in order to store them properly. Ron helped, trapping one of the Bludgers until Harry could get it locked down.

"Why'd you lay into her like that, Harry?" Ron finally asked.

"She wasn't paying attention. Too busy ogling Colin, I guess. A lapse like that could cost us the game on Saturday." Harry had opened the Quidditch locker and was busy coaxing the Snitch back into its compartment. He missed the look of incredulity that preceded Ron's outburst of laughter.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

Ron was so completely overcome that he was unable to answer Harry's question. He doubled over, holding his stomach, as if to contain himself. Harry felt his temper flare.

"Look, there's no room for romance on the Quidditch pitch. If we'd been playing a real match, Ginny could have taken a Bludger to the head, letting herself get distracted like that."

Ron finally managed to form a coherent sentence. "Ogling Colin? Have you gone mad?"

"No. She's been like this ever since she drank the potion."

Ron stopped laughing. "What potion?"

Harry could have kicked himself. "The, um…"

"What potion, Harry?" Ron asked, an edge creeping into his voice.

Harry closed his eyes and braced for the worst. "I was brewing _Imitor Ardoris_ for my midterm and Ginny… Ginny accidentally drank it," he said quickly.

_"Accidentally?"_ Ron squeaked.

"It was in a butterbeer bottle. She didn't know what it was," Harry explained.

Ron relaxed, but still appeared puzzled. "So, what's that got to do with Creevey?" he asked.

Harry slammed the Quidditch locker shut and began fiddling with the lock. "Ever since then, every time I turn around, he's got his hands on her and she's _flirting_ with him," he said in a low voice, glancing sideways at Ron, who appeared even more confused.

"What, did you use some of Colin's hair to brew the potion?"

"Of course not. I used mine," Harry replied shortly.

"Then what on earth would make you think Ginny fancies Colin?" Ron asked in a tone that clearly indicated he thought Harry was shy a few marbles. When Harry shrugged, he continued, "If you used your hair, she should fancy you."

"You'd think, wouldn't you? Couldn't prove it by me. For the most part, I seem to be beneath her notice," Harry complained.

Ron stared at Harry incredulously. "You've got a thing for Ginny, don't you?" he asked as a smile began at the corners of his mouth.

"No!" Harry shot back, flushing. "It's just that Snape's grading my potion based on whether or not it affected Ginny. And I seem to be failing miserably."

"How's that?"

"Ginny hasn't been acting any differently around me than she normally does," Harry replied sullenly.

Ron's grin widened. "Well, she wouldn't, would she?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry snapped.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, you're an idiot." He shook his head and began walking towards the castle, leaving Harry staring after him. Several meters away, he turned back and called out, "You'd better apologize to Ginny. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes once she dreams up a way to get back at you. And you know she will."

Harry sighed. Maybe Ron had a point. Ginny was not known for acting with restraint when her temper had been riled, and she had easy access to Fred and George's "experimental" products. If he didn't smooth things over with her, she was liable to poison his pumpkin juice one morning when he wasn't looking.

_At least then I would know I'd provoked __**some**__ kind of reaction,_ thought Harry as he trudged off to the castle alone.

* * *

When Harry and Ron finished changing out of their Quidditch gear, they descended the steps to the common room to find Hermione waiting for them, alone.

Ron glanced at Harry with one eyebrow raised, as if to say, _I told you so._ Harry ignored him and spoke to Hermione.

"Where's Ginny?" he asked

"She already left," Hermione replied, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. "She said she was really hungry and didn't want to wait."

"Was that all she said?" Harry pressed.

"No, it wasn't, but I don't care to repeat the rest, Harry. Ginny swears worse than Ron when she's angry. And I don't know if I've ever seen her this angry before. Harry, what did you–oh, never mind. We can talk about it later. I'm hungry too; I almost walked down with her instead of waiting on you two. Ron ate the lion's share of the food I carried to the hospital wing at lunch."

Hermione followed Ron over to the portrait hole. Ron stepped through first, then held the portrait open for Hermione and Harry. As Harry climbed through, Ron whispered, "What'd I tell you, mate?"

Harry glared at him. "I'll apologize at supper," he said shortly.

Unfortunately, he didn't get that chance. Ginny was seated in her usual spot; Colin was next to her. When she looked up and saw Harry walking towards her, she whispered something to Colin, then stood up from the bench and began walking towards the door. When she passed by, Harry caught her arm.

"Ginny, wait," he hissed.

Ginny jerked her arm from his grasp and brushed past him without a word, her face pale save for her cheeks, which were stained with two spots of red. An outside observer may have thought she was embarrassed, but Harry could see that she was still seething with anger. He watched her go, then stalked over to where Ron and Hermione were waiting at the Gryffindor table.

"Harry–" Hermione began, but at a stony look from Harry, she simply shook her head and began eating.

Ron gave him a small smile of sympathy, but he, too soon busied himself with his meal. Harry ate as quickly he could then left so as not to be subjected any further to the curious gazes of his housemates and the snickers from certain members of Slytherin house. He paused in the corridor, wondering which way Ginny had gone, then immediately regretted his hesitation when Snape's voice called out behind him.

"You don't seem to be making much progress, Mr. Potter."

Harry tensed in reaction to the professor's mocking tone, but he turned to answer.

"I'm not comfortable with the idea of having my grade based on whether or not Ginny throws herself at me," he said stiffly.

"You should have thought of that before you stored your potion in a butterbeer bottle," the professor replied smoothly.

"Can't you just analyze the potion itself?"

"I'm afraid the bottle met with an unfortunate accident. One of the house elves seems to have disposed of it last night when they tidied my office." Snape paused and made a _tutting_ sound as he shook his head. "Too bad, Potter. I only hope the creature disposed of it _properly._ House elves have a certain fondness for butterbeer, as I recall."

Harry ignored the professor's jibe. "What, exactly, do I have to do in order to pass this examination?" he demanded.

"You don't have to do anything, Potter. The burden of proof rests entirely on Miss Weasley's shoulders. By this point she should be showering you with attention, and instead, she seems to be repelled by your mere presence. I wonder why?"

Harry was too frustrated to even attempt an answer. Professor Snape stood staring at him for a moment, then said, "Twenty-four hours, Potter. Twenty-four hours."

He may have been mistaken, but Harry could have sworn that Snape was practically skipping as he headed for the dungeons.

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower, hoping that Ginny had settled herself in the common room to study. He should have known she would never make things that easy for him; the common room was empty. He collapsed onto the sofa and stewed in front of the fireplace until Ron and Hermione returned from supper.

"She hasn't come back yet?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry shook his head in response, refusing to look away from the fire.

"You just going to sit there all night?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. Ron sighed in exasperation and left, stomping loudly up the stairs to the seventh-year boys' dormitory. Hermione, however, came to sit next to Harry on the sofa. She patted his hand softly in an attempt to comfort him.

"Do you want me to talk to her, Harry?"

"No. I want _her_ to talk to _me."_

Hermione said nothing for a moment, then spoke cautiously.

"Harry, the way I heard it, you gave her a dressing down in front of the entire Quidditch team for absolutely no reason. It's no wonder she isn't speaking to you."

Harry pictured Ginny hugging Colin and felt his earlier anger returning.

"I'm the captain," he said sharply. "It's my job to discipline team members when they're out of line, and Ginny was definitely out of line. She was—"

"Ogling Colin?" Hermione finished in a teasing voice.

Harry made a noise of disgust.

"You don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Harry. Explain it to me. Maybe I can help."

Harry grunted in disbelief. "Not bloody likely. Listen, I have some studying to do; I thought I might go to the library. We've still got the midterm examination left for Transfiguration, and I needed to look a few things up. Do you want to come?"

"All right. Let me grab my things."

Ron declined to accompany them, saying that he thought instead he would nip back down to the infirmary for another dose of tonic as he wasn't feeling quite up to snuff. The whole way there, Hermione chattered about the topics Professor McGonagall was likely to cover on the test while Harry nodded or shook his head at the appropriate intervals. When they reached the library, the sight Harry beheld at one of the tables was enough to make him want to turn around and walk straight back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ginny was there, seated next to Dean Thomas, who was holding a large book at an angle so Ginny couldn't see it; he appeared to be quizzing her on material from the text.

"I don't believe it," Harry muttered just loudly enough for Hermione to hear.

"You don't believe what?"

"Her. First Creevey, now Thomas."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked sharply at Harry, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Harry, why does it matter to you who Ginny is sitting with?"

Harry sighed and grabbed her by the elbow, guiding her to a table far away from, but not out of sight, of Ginny and Dean. He hefted his rucksack onto the table, where it landed with a loud thunk, and cringed when Madame Pince sent him a withering glare. Shrugging apologetically, he slid into his seat across from Hermione and began pulling books from his bag at random.

"Harry?" she said expectantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. He had hoped she would drop the subject once books were spread in front of her. Glancing up, he saw she had no intention of dropping the subject, and he sighed again in frustration.

"You remember the potion I brewed?"

Hermione frowned in concentration. "You mean the love potion?"

"Yeah. Well, Ginny drank some of it."

Hermione stared at him, aghast. "Harry, why did you give Ginny some of your potion?"

"I _didn't," _Harry hissed angrily. "I forgot my vial so I put it in a butterbeer bottle, and she drank some before I could stop her."

Hermione sat quietly for a moment, absorbing this information. "I don't understand. What does that have to do with Ginny and Colin? Or Dean?"

"When Professor Snape found out, he decided he would base my grade on Ginny's reaction to the potion."

"And?" Hermione prompted.

Harry felt his cheeks burn as he answered. "And she's flirting with everyone in Gryffindor but me!"

Hermione smiled and glanced over at the table Ginny shared with Dean.

"Harry, you're being ridiculous. Ginny and Dean are just friends. They're studying together. It's not like they're snogging."

Harry followed her glance, glowering at Dean's back.

"Maybe. But didn't she say she had a thing for him once, on the train home?"

Hermione glanced back at him with a look of surprise, but then shifted her attention to her own rucksack. As she began arranging her textbooks carefully on the table, she commented casually, "Yes, I think she did mention that, Harry, over a year and a half ago. I'm surprised you remember it."

Harry looked away from her, his gaze drifting towards Ginny once again. She sat in profile, frowning thoughtfully as she answered Dean's questions, seemingly unaware of his scrutiny.

"Just because I don't gab about everyone and everything doesn't mean I don't notice what's going on around me," he said finally.

Hermione nodded. She had opened one of her books and was making notes on a clean sheet of parchment. Without looking up, she asked quietly, "Harry, what's really bothering you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He should have known better than to invite Hermione to the library.

"When you said she was over me a long time ago, I was glad to hear it. I never really knew how to act around Ginny, and it was so much easier when she started talking to me. We got to be friends. Good friends."

"Of course."

"Now…she's taken this potion, and it's supposed to make her act like she's in love with me. Only, she's not. Acting that way, I mean. So, I can't help but wonder, why? Why not me? What's so wrong with me?"

"Harry, nothing is wrong with you. Love potions are extremely unpredictable, you know that."

He grunted noncommittally. Across the way, Ginny giggled softly at something Dean had drawn on a sheet of paper. As Harry watched, she nudged Dean playfully with her toe under the table. Harry closed his book and shoved it away from him across the table, then he stood so abruptly that he nearly knocked his chair backwards.

"That's it. I'm going to have a talk with her," he said as he started across the room.

"Harry, wait," Hermione called after him "I don't think that's a good idea…."

But by that time Harry was already too close to Ginny to turn back. By the stiffening of her shoulders, he surmised she had noticed him walking towards her. He did not stop until he was standing directly in front of her so that she couldn't pretend not to see him.

"Ginny, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Ginny looked up. "I'm in the middle of studying, Harry," she said in a tone that would have frozen pepper imps.

"It won't take long," Harry assured her. "And I'm not leaving until I do."

Ginny huffed, but she got up from her seat and followed Harry into the stacks at the back of the room, where they wouldn't be overheard. She leaned against one of stacks and adopted a forbidding pose, folding her arms across her chest and schooling her features into an expression of disinterest.

"I hate it when you look at me like that. It makes me feel like I'm a slimy bit of something you'd find at the bottom of one of Snape's jars in the potions storeroom. Or worse, a Slytherin," he joked, hoping to crack her composure.

Ginny remained silent, but the frostiness in her eyes began to melt away. Harry took that as a good sign and continued.

"Gin, I'm sorry I came down so hard on you at practice. You didn't deserve it. I guess I just kind of lost my head, what with the Ravenclaw game coming up." _And Colin Creevey leering at you every time I turn around._

Slowly Ginny's posture relaxed. She took a deep breath, then exhaled and said, "I accept your apology, Harry."

"You do? Really?" Harry was shocked. He'd been certain she would make him sweat a little before she forgave him. He knew she was every bit as good at holding grudges as Ron.

"Yes, really. But I want to know _why,_ Harry. You embarrassed me terribly in front of the entire team, and poor Colin, too. There has to be some reason other than the Ravenclaw game. You weren't this rabid when we played Slytherin last term."

Harry winced and closed his eyes. Ginny had unfortunately asked the one question he didn't know if he could answer. He scrambled to think of a plausible excuse for his behavior during practice.

"It's just…. I've noticed…. You've been hanging around Creevey an awful lot lately."

Ginny laughed. "So?" she asked.

"So, I don't think you should."

The expression in Ginny's eyes cooled significantly again.

"Why not?"

"I've…I've heard things about him."

"Really?" Ginny drawled. "What kinds of things, Harry?"

"That he…that he's fast."

Ginny shrugged. "What if he is? What business is it of yours?"

Harry couldn't answer; her implication had rekindled his earlier anger, and he could not make himself form a response.

"That's what I thought," Ginny said. She turned to walk past Harry, but he blocked her path.

"Look, are you just _trying_ to irritate me?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

Ginny appeared shocked. "Harry, what's gotten into you? What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. You… Colin… Dean… every time I've seen you for the past two days, you've been flirting with some bloke." _And none of them have been me,_ Harry fumed silently. "You're supposed to be…."

"Yes?" Ginny asked, a knowing expression crossing her face.

_Mine. For the next 24 hours, at least, you're supposed to be mine._ But Harry couldn't bring himself to say it. He ground his teeth together while Ginny tapped impatiently with her foot. Finally, just as she turned to leave, he spoke.

"Look, I know what you're doing, Ginny."

Ginny paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. "And that would be what?" she asked.

"You're pretending the potion didn't work by paying attention to other guys instead."

Ginny rounded on Harry indignantly. "Of all the arrogant, conceited, ridiculous things to say! Harry, this may come as news to you, but a person can neither fake the effects of a love potion, nor can they fake NOT being affected by a love potion. They don't work that way, otherwise, what's the point?"

"You forget, Ginny, I've seen you in action, and I know you're a terrific actress. You're cool as a cucumber even when you're lying to your own mum. You could pull it off."

"Even if I could, why would I, Harry? Knowing full well that Professor Snape is basing your grade on my reaction to your potion, why would I pretend not to be affected? Do you think I _want_ you to fail?"

Harry was momentarily stumped. His arguments had sounded reasonable, in his head, before she had to go and poke holes him them. "I… I…" he stammered.

"Do you really think so little of me, Harry, that I would let my own pride get in the way in a situation like this? I thought we were friends. I thought you knew…."

"Knew what?"

Ginny shook her head, refusing to finish her sentence. Instead she just stood there, looking at him reproachfully.

Harry swallowed hard, ashamed of himself. He _did_ know Ginny better than that. How could he explain to her why he had reacted so badly, when he couldn't even begin to explain to himself?

"Harry, you may not want to admit it, but I've not been acting any differently towards you or anyone else than I have for the past two years," Ginny said in flat tone.

"That's the problem. You drank a love potion, Ginny. It should have had _some_ effect. What's so wrong with me that you're completely immune? Scar is a turnoff? Not tall enough? Not smart enough?" he asked bitterly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth as if to reply, but then she snapped it shut again.

"What? Go on, what were you going to say?" Harry demanded.

"If I'm not reacting to the potion the way you think I should, Harry, then there must be a perfectly good reason. Maybe you should do a bit of research on the subject, and find out what went wrong," Ginny suggested calmly.

"I followed every instruction to the letter. That potion was authentic. If there's anything wrong here, it's something to do with you."

Ginny gazed levelly at Harry for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. "You're probably right, Harry," she agreed, nodding.

She walked away then, leaving him shaking with pent up frustration and…something else he couldn't quite put a name on. He only knew that he had never met a more stubborn, troublesome, infuriating witch than Ginny Weasley. He gave up any hope of getting any studying done and, after stopping to plead a headache to Hermione, returned to his dormitory for the rest of the evening.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Friday Morning**_

The headache that had begun the night before had not abated when Harry awoke the next morning to the shrill ringing of Ron's alarm clock. Ron was snoring straight through it until Harry fired his feather pillow at him, which knocked the offending clock to the floor before landing squarely upside Ron's head.

"Ow! Bugger, Harry, that bloody hurt!"

Harry didn't respond other than to send a dark look in Ron's direction. His foul mood from the previous evening had carried over along with the headache. The last thing he wanted was to be subjected to Ron's habitual griping about being forced to rise at the unholy hour of seven a.m. He stumbled through his morning routine and eventually found himself in the common room with only a vague recollection of having walked down the stairs on his own power.

Ron and Hermione were unusually quiet on the way to the Great Hall, which was probably for the best. In his state of mind, Harry was afraid he would end up alienating all three of his best friends, instead of just Ginny. Harry and Ron had once again found Hermione alone in the common room, and Ginny's absence pained Harry more than he cared to admit. He looked forward to her sunny smile in the mornings, even though he thought it perverse that anyone could be so cheerful before noon. Ron and Hermione's looks of sympathy grated on his nerves; by the time they reached the Great Hall, his headache had intensified from the pressure of his teeth grinding together.

As Hermione and Ron started around towards their usual side of the table, Harry walked down the inner aisle towards his own seat next to Ginny. He wondered whether she was speaking to him this morning. _She said she accepted your apology in the library, but then you had to go and made an arse of your--_

Harry stopped in his tracks before he had quite reached the table. He had automatically gravitated towards Ginny's vibrant red hair, but he was stunned to find when he took a second look that Ginny was sitting between Colin Creevey and Dean Thomas. For the first time in over a year and a half, she hadn't saved him a seat.

_It hurt._ Harry was certain that it couldn't possibly have hurt any more if Ginny had simply taken the direct route and punched him in the gut. He tried to breathe, but he couldn't get past the invisible bands of steel that seemed to be squeezing his lungs. To make matters worse, there was a definite lull in the chattering at the Gryffindor table. The volume gradually decreased until almost every student at the table had fallen silent and was watching him. Ginny was the only exception. She continued chewing the toast she had taken a bite of, then washed it down with a swallow of pumpkin juice before calmly turning to acknowledge his presence.

"Good morning, Harry," she said casually.

Harry tried to speak, but he was unable to force any words past his lips. He looked away, towards Ron and Hermione instead.

"'I'm not really hungry after all," he said quietly.

"Harry...." Hermione began in a sympathetic tone, but it only caused Harry's anger to flare up.

"Just shut up for once, Hermione, would you?" he snapped.

Harry immediately regretted his words, for Hermione gasped, and he could see tears forming in her eyes.

Ron stood, his ears flushing a dark red. "Harry, I suggest you apologize, or you and I are gonna have words outside."

Harry hung his head in shame and mumbled, "Sorry, Hermione."

With that, he turned back towards the door, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Snape sitting across the room at the head table, barely able to contain his expression of glee at Harry's misfortune. Harry ignored him and stalked out of the Great Hall, robes trailing out behind him.

He didn't stop until he had reached the Quidditch pitch, which was deserted at this time of day. He didn't know why his feet had brought him out here; his broom was still locked up inside his dormitory. He debated Summoning it, but he didn't really have the heart to go flying. Instead, he climbed into the stands and rested his aching head in his hands, threading his fingers into his hair.

_Well, that's it then, Potter. You've failed your mid-term which means you'll likely fail Potions, which means you won't be allowed to sit for the N.E.W.T. and your career as an Auror has crashed and burned before it even got off the ground. You've insulted one of your best friends and as a result, angered the other so much that he's likely to kick your arse the next time he sees you. And your other best friend has decided that you're just not worth her time. What the bloody hell are you supposed to do now?_

Harry looked down at his watch. Herbology had begun fifteen minutes ago. Hermione would likely be worried, but he didn't think he could have faced her yet, anyway. She had done nothing to deserve his anger, and he was a complete prat for taking it out on her. He would have to think of something extra-special to make it up to her.

"Harry."

A pair of shoes had materialized in front of Harry. He looked up to see Ginny holding a roll of parchment out to him.

"You dropped this in the library last night; it looks like your Transfiguration notes. You left the Great Hall before I had a chance to give it to you."

"Thanks," Harry replied tersely, looking back down at his feet. Ginny sighed impatiently.

"Are you just going to sit out here all day?" she asked.

"I might."

"But why--"

"Ginny," Harry interrupted tiredly, "thanks to the little stunt you pulled in there, I've failed my potions mid-term. I really don't want to talk just now."

Ginny closed her eyes, a sick look washing over her face. "I didn't think, Harry. You made me so angry last night at practice, and then at the library, too. Maybe we can explain...."

Harry gave a sharp bark of laughter. "This wasn't just a mid-term for me, you know. Snape says my original potion was disposed of. Your reaction to the potion is the _only_ shot I have at passing. If I fail the mid-term, I'll fail potions this semester, which means I won't be able to sit for the N.E.W.T., which means...."

"You won't be able to qualify for the Auror program," Ginny finished quietly.

Harry nodded miserably. His initial anger had faded, and he made no complaint when Ginny took a seat next to him.

"What can I do, Harry?" she asked in a soft voice.

"I don't think there's anything you can do, Ginny," Harry replied. "You know how Snape is. He won't let me retake the examination."

"No. But there has to be some way to convince him the potion worked. Maybe if you told him I was trying to make you jealous?" she mused aloud.

Harry shook his head.

"I don't think he'd buy that, especially coming from me. But maybe.... " he trailed off as a plan began to form in his mind. If Snape wanted a show, perhaps they would be able to give him one he'd never forget.

"Maybe...?" Ginny prompted.

"Well," Harry began slowly, "Snape would have to see something that would convince him that you had tried to make me jealous because you fell in lo-- I mean, because the potion had worked."

Ginny began to nod in understanding. "Something like a public display of affection? A good old-fashioned snog, perhaps?" she said with a sly grin.

Harry flushed. "Yeah. Something like that."

Ginny considered the matter for a moment then answer, "All right, Harry."

Harry felt a thrill of hope zinging through his veins. "Really? You'll do it?"

"Yes. When and where?"

Harry thought for a moment. "We don't have much time, because the deadline is tonight. I have double Potions this afternoon, so could you meet me in the dungeons after lunch? I think that would be the best place to catch him."

"Fine. I'll be there." Ginny stood and began walking toward the stairs, then she turned back to face him. "By the way, Harry?" she began with an edge in her voice.

Harry could feel the knot tightening in his stomach once more as he answered, "Yes?"

"Don't think this means I've forgiven you. You said some horrible things to me yesterday, but I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I were the reason the world is deprived of someone who will probably turn out to be the best Auror who's ever lived," she said with a wry smile.

"Right. Thanks, Ginny."

Ginny climbed back down out of the stands and walked to the castle by herself, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts, which were still a jumble of confusion. He soon left the Quidditch pitch and made his way over to Hagrid's hut where he helped feed the growing menagerie until it was time for class. Hermione appeared before any of the rest of the students, looking relieved to find Harry there.

"Professor Sprout asked about you when didn't show up for Herbology," she said coolly, joining in to help feed the Bowtruckles. "Where have you been?"

"I walked out to the Quidditch pitch first to blow off some steam, then I just came here. Hermione, I'm really sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. I hope you know that."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, you did mean it, Harry, but I understand. I've been meddling in your business, and I'm sorry, too."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and Harry felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders. If only he could smooth things over with Ginny so easily.

For the second time in two days, the class passed by in a blur for Harry. He began to feel as if butterflies were fluttering about in his stomach at the thought of kissing Ginny. By the time lunch rolled around, he was too nervous to eat, so he told Hermione to go ahead without him. He spent most of his lunch period visiting Hedwig at the Owlery, who was miffed at him for having stayed away too long. Finally, he looked at his watch for what seemed to be the hundredth time and saw that it was time for him to meet Ginny.

Harry climbed down the stairs to the bottom of the West Tower, where he was surprised to find Ginny waiting for him.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"Hagrid told me. I came to make sure you really wanted to do this," Ginny answered. Her tone was oddly subdued, and Harry didn't know what to make of it.

"What other choice do I have, Ginny? If you have any better ideas, I'd love to hear them."

Ginny looked down and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. "I can't think of a thing." She looked up at him then with an expression that could only be described as resigned. "All right. Let's get this over with."

_She didn't have to make it sound like a chore. _ _Is the thought of kissing me so bad?_ Harry wondered. Then he mentally kicked himself. _She said yes, you idiot. Get going!_

The butterflies Harry had felt earlier returned in force, and brought all their relatives along, too. Now that they were committed to this course of action, Harry wasn't certain this was the brightest idea he'd ever had. He was about to kiss Ginny Weasley. It wasn't that he was frightened exactly.... After all, he had kissed girls before. There was Cho, and Susan Bones, and Parvati Patil, and, well, he guessed the time with Luna Lovegood counted.

But this was different. He wasn't certain he could put a finger on precisely why it was different, other than the fact that Ginny was Ron's little sister. But that wasn't quite it. Maybe it was just that, well, he _knew_ Ginny. He knew what she looked like at 6:30 in the morning, before she'd had a chance to brush her hair or wash her face. He knew that she preferred Muggle music to the Weird Sisters. He knew that her best subject was Charms, and her worst subject was Arithmancy. He knew her favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Beans (grass) and her least favorite food (pumpkin pie). It suddenly occurred to him that, over the years, he had grown to know Ginny almost as well as he knew Ron or Hermione. Ever since the summer at the Burrow after his first year, she had always simply been there. And he was finally coming to realize that he liked it that way.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry failed to notice that they had arrived at the dungeons. He nearly collided with Ginny when she stopped outside the Potions classroom.

"We're here," she announced, turning to face him.

"Yeah. We're here." Harry rocked back on his heels, with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Harry asked.

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?" Ginny snapped impatiently. She had crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring up at him as if he were an annoying bug she'd like to squash.

"No, actually, it was you who said that. Look, d'you think you could at least _pretend_ you don't hate me for a few minutes?" Harry pleaded. "It might make this easier."

Something changed in Ginny's eyes, and she heaved a great sigh. "I don't hate you, Harry. I just.... I know this was my idea, but the thought of putting on a performance for Professor Snape is...."

"Revolting?" Harry finished drily.

"I thought about it all morning, and it just doesn't seem right," Ginny drew in a deep breath before finishing, "to pretend to feel something we don't."

Harry felt as if one of the Hogwarts ghosts had glided straight through him, leaving behind a chill that couldn't be chased away. He stared at her for a moment, uncomfortable and at a loss to explain his disappointment at her words. He only knew that he had to convince her to do this...and that it wasn't just about his examination anymore.

"Maybe we shouldn't think of it that way," he said finally. "We're just...we're just pretending that the potion worked, that's all. I'm sorry, Ginny, if I could think of any other way...."

"I know, Harry," Ginny replied. The irritation in her eyes had diminished, and Harry even thought he detected a bit of sadness, which seemed at odds with the situation. Then a mask seemed to fall over her face. "Ok, so, let's get this over with," she said briskly.

Harry checked his watch. "We have a couple of minutes. You know Snape--he always walks in precisely when class starts."

"But, Harry, that means I'll be late for Transfiguration! McGonagall will give me a detention. And that will be on top of the detention that Snape will give both of us for snogging in the hallways."

"Oh," Harry said, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He hated the idea of getting Ginny in trouble with her professors. "I hadn't thought of that."

Ginny's eyes blazed momentarily, as if she were struggling to hold her temper in check. She inhaled deeply several times before speaking. "Harry Potter, so help me, if you don't get an O on your Potions N.E.W.T. _and_ receive top marks in the Auror program to boot, I will never forgive you for this."

Harry nodded. "I will. I swear, Ginny, I'll never ask you to do anything like this again."

An odd expression crossed Ginny's face. "No, I don't suppose you will." Ginny grabbed Harry's wrist and flipped it so that she could check the time on his watch. "Not much time left." She looked up at Harry expectantly.

Harry froze. "Um.... Where.... What...."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Ginny yanked hard on Harry's arm so that the distance between them was closed and he was standing within mere inches of her. The top of her head was just about even with his nose. Once again, he was pleasantly surprised by the aroma of strawberries. _Definitely her shampoo,_ he thought as he inhaled discreetly.

"Don't just stand there, Harry. Put your arms around me," she commanded.

"Oh. Right." Harry placed his hands on either side of her shoulders. Ginny rolled her eyes, then removed his hands from her shoulders and replaced them at her waist. She in turn slipped her arms up around his neck, where her fingers seemed to take on a life of their own, twining into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Harry felt goose bumps spread from his neck down to his arms, and he couldn't quite manage to suppress the accompanying shiver.

Glancing down, he thought he detected a pleased expression on Ginny's face. She pressed a little closer, edging one of her knees in between his, and Harry felt the butterflies in his stomach incinerate. From somewhere down the corridor, the sound of a door opening registered faintly. Ginny must have heard it, too. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Then she opened her eyes again.

Harry felt as if he were falling. The look in Ginny's eyes was so warm, so real, that for a moment, he couldn't help but believe she loved him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, so hard that he was certain she could hear it. If she did, she gave no sign. Her eyes were locked onto his, and they remained so as he slowly bent his head to hers. Finally, just before his lips met hers, her eyes fluttered shut, as did his. Even with his eyes shut, her expression still burned in his brain, fueling the fire pooling in the core of his body.

Gently, his mouth grazed hers once, then again, in just the barest hint of a kiss, leaving his body throbbing for more. He pulled back and inhaled sharply, partially to gain control over himself, and partially to make certain he had permission to proceed. When she didn't retreat or push him away, he descended once again, pressing his mouth firmly to hers and savoring the warm contours of her lips.

Kissing Ginny was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before. He had never dreamed that her mouth would be so soft and pliant under his, that his pulse would race uncontrollably as her hands skimmed over his back, or that he would experience a rush of heat so intense that it made him forget everything else but her. Unbidden, his left arm slipped securely about her waist while his right hand traveled slowly up her back and threaded itself into her hair. He gently tugged her forward until her body was pressed closely to his. In response, Ginny's arms tightened around his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin. The sharpness of her nails in his flesh sent another wave of heat through him from head to toe, leaving every nerve in his skin tingling with pleasure. Harry's fingers itched to slip beneath the soft fabric of her robes to explore the warm curves of her flesh. Even as the stray thought crossed his mind, his hand slipped from her waist and his fingers dug into her hip, dragging her even more firmly against him so that she could feel for herself how aroused he was. Ginny moaned softly into his mouth, and when her lips opened beneath his, Harry nearly jolted out of his skin in surprise. He delved into her mouth, tentatively at first, then more boldly in response to her soft sigh of pleasure at the contact. He pressed her firmly against the stone wall, intent on thoroughly exploring the sweetness of her mouth. The last vestiges of rational thought fled, leaving only one word resounding in his head:

_Mine._

At that moment, Ginny began to pull away. In response, Harry's arms tightened possessively around her. _If she thinks I'm letting her go now, he thought, she's crazy. I'll...._

"Just what do you think you're doing?" an icy voice hissed behind Harry.

Ginny pulled abruptly out of Harry's arms, leaving him feeling as if she had torn away a part of himself with her. When he opened his eyes, she stood before him, gazing up with a mixture of sadness and resignation. The warm, loving look he had seen before was gone.

_Did I imagine it?_ Harry thought.

"Potter! Weasley! Explain yourselves at once!" Snape demanded.

"Um..." Harry began, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny interrupted. "It must have been the potion. I just...couldn't help myself," she explained in a dull voice, shrugging.

Professor Snape's eyes darted from Ginny to Harry, then back to Ginny again. "Do you _really_ expect me to believe that after you've spent the past thirty-six hours paying no attention to Mr. Potter whatsoever, that you've suddenly become smitten, Miss Weasley?" Ginny nodded glumly, but Snape shook his head. "Nice try. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate behavior. _Each._ I suggest you proceed immediately to your next class, Miss Weasley. Potter, I'll speak with you after class."

Harry tried to catch Ginny's eye, but she turned without looking at him and strode down the corridor, her shoulders ramrod straight. He started after her, but Snape stopped him.

"Don't even think about it, Potter. Get into that classroom _immediately."_

For the first time since declaring his intention to qualify for Auror training, Harry didn't bother to pay attention during Potions class. Fortunately, they were beginning a new unit on the process of distillation, so Professor Snape was dictating notes. Harry retrieved a Perpetually Printing Plume and set it to record. He kept his eyes averted from the front of the room, seemingly focused on his parchment, when in reality the words were a mere blur. All he could see was Ginny's face: her anger with him at practice the night before, the look in her eyes just before he kissed her, and her sadness when the kiss was over. Harry couldn't remember when he'd been more confused.

Professor Snape's sharp voice cut into his thoughts. "Class is over, Mr. Potter. As your Plume has copied down your notes, I don't see that your continued presence serves any useful purpose."

Harry started out of his reverie. The classroom was empty, save for Snape and himself. Even Hermione had departed, probably at the professor's command.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Harry asked in a monotone.

"Do not ever try to pull a stunt like that again, Potter," Snape replied in a deadly tone. "Contrary to what you may think, I am far from stupid. The effects of a love potion cannot be faked. You are dangerously close to failing your midterm, I'm afraid."

Harry felt his earlier anger return. "I don't understand it. I measured everything just so, timed the additions, and stirred the exact number of times. The potion was the right color, the right consistency. It was viable. It had to be."

Professor Snape clasped his hands together behind his back and scrutinized Harry for a moment before answering.

"There are only two possibilities here, Potter. Either the potion was not viable, despite what you may believe, or you are mistaken in your facts. I suggest you research the matter. If you are unable to present me with evidence to the contrary by seven p.m., you will receive a zero as your midterm grade. I don't think I have to elaborate upon what the consequences of failing will be."

Frustrated, Harry attempted to argue. "But Professor, I've read the instructions over and over and I know I followed them to the letter. I think Ginny is hiding something."

"What motive would she have for doing such a thing? Does she _want_ to see you fail?"

"No," Harry mumbled.

"Just as the effects cannot be faked, neither can the effects be circumvented. If Miss Weasley _was_ under the influence of the potion, she would be incapable of averting its effects." Snape scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and handed it to Harry. "Remember, Potter. Seven p.m."

Harry stalked angrily out of the Potions dungeon, crumpling up the parchment and stuffing it into his pocket. He had resigned himself to failing the midterm, but it didn't seem important anymore. What was important was finding Ginny. He needed to know if the kiss had affected her as deeply as it had him.

Unfortunately, Ginny was nowhere to be found. When he waited for her outside her classes, he was told she was absent. When he visited the infirmary, she wasn't there, either. Harry skived off the rest of his classes for the day to search for her on the grounds, but to no avail. When he finally resorted to consulting the Marauder's Map he discovered she was in her dormitory, which was the one place Harry couldn't confront her, thanks to the alarm system. Obviously she was avoiding him, but he was damned if he knew why.

Finally, Quidditch practice rolled around. Harry had been willing to bet that Ginny would skip it, but she arrived with several other members of the team. By unspoken agreement, neither addressed the other directly. Harry conducted the practice in a haze, automatically going through the motions that had become familiar to him after countless hours on the Quidditch pitch. He worked the team hard, but his lack of enthusiasm seemed to be contagious. Harry ended the session an hour earlier than he had intended, and he couldn't bring himself to utter his usual pre-game pep talk. Ron didn't speak to him the entire hour, leaving Harry to assume he was still sore on Hermione's behalf. Ginny, to his surprise, hung back after everyone else had left. She locked the Bludgers down after Harry wrangled them into the chest, then waited until after he had secured the Snitch to speak.

"I guess Snape really didn't buy it, did he?" she began softly.

"No," Harry said shortly.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. I guess...I guess maybe I'm not as good an actress as you thought," Ginny said with a nervous laugh.

Harry felt as if she had reached into his chest, taken his heart into her little hands and crushed it with all her might. _No, you're a damn sight better,_ he thought. Obviously the kiss hadn't affected her the way it had affected him, and he couldn't stop the wave of resentment he felt.

"Harry? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Harry folded his arms against his chest, and looked at her, pleased to see her slight smile begin to fade.

"What is there to say, Ginny? Other than it's too bad it wasn't Colin's potion instead of mine? Maybe then you wouldn't have had as much trouble performing," he said coldly.

Without warning, Ginny hauled back and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Harry almost welcomed the pain; it took his mind off of the ache in his heart.

"I don't ever want to speak to you again," Ginny said in a freezing voice.

Her face had paled so much that her freckles stood out like tiny bronze Knuts against her skin. Harry was shocked to see tears glittering in her eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to call her back when she turned and left him standing alone. Instead, he dragged the Quidditch chest back to the changing rooms by himself, where he sank to the floor, at a loss for what to do with himself, other than ponder how things had gone wrong so quickly.

_Damn Snape and his stupid love potion anyway,_ Harry thought bitterly. _Bet he got a real charge out of finding yet another way to torture me._

Thoughts of Snape brought to mind the scrap of parchment the professor had handed him before he had left the classroom earlier. Harry fished it out of his pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles. It was a pass to the Restricted Section of the library, along with a book title - _Ensnaring the Senses: Love Potions in Theory and Practice._

Harry shrugged to himself. He didn't have anything better to do at the moment. _Might as well try and find out just where I went wrong._

When Harry arrived at the library, he gave the pass to Madame Pince, who retrieved the book for him and then escorted him to a cubicle in the reading room. He cracked the book open and searched the index for _Imitor Ardoris._ He felt a sense of foreboding when he flipped to the page numbers indicated.

_Maybe the potion affected me somehow, instead of Ginny?_ he wondered. He began to read.

_The _Imitor Ardoris_ is one of the milder love potions known to the wizarding world. The effects are temporary and are usually not dangerous. It is effective only when ingested directly._

Harry was certain he had not ingested any of the potion. He skipped over the material he was familiar with, but he nearly dropped the book in surprise as he began the next passage.

_The brewer is forewarned that Imitor Ardoris is useless in a situation where the subject already harbors deep feelings of romantic love for the administrator. It is unclear whether the potion is completely ineffective in these cases, or if the effects simply cannot be discerned from the routine behavior of the subject in question._

Stunned, Harry recalled snippets of conversation with Ginny, Ron and Hermione from the past two days.

_"I feel perfectly fine, no differently than I always do."_

_"She seemed just like she does every other morning."_

_"I'm not acting any differently towards you than I have for the past two years, Harry."_

_"Maybe you should do a bit of research on the subject, and find out what went wrong,"_

_"I followed every instruction to the letter. That potion was authentic. If there's anything wrong here, it's something to do with you."_

_"You're probably right, Harry."_

_"Harry, you're an idiot."_

Without a second thought, Harry grabbed the volume up and sprinted out of the library, with Madame Pince squawking at him in the background. He made it down to Professor Snape's office with barely five minutes to spare.

"Yes, Potter?"

Harry threw the book onto Snape's desk. It fell open to the page he'd marked, and he pointed to the passage he'd discovered. "The potion.... It didn't work because she already.... I think maybe she...."

Snape looked from Harry to the book and then to Harry again. "Well, Potter, it seems you're not a complete idiot after all. I suppose I have no choice but to pass you. Your grade is seventy percent. You should have known better than to pour a love potion into a butterbeer bottle. Be glad you're passing at all."

"But..."

"You're dismissed, Potter." Snape nodded at the door then returned to the work spread across his desk. Harry, still reeling from his discovery, somehow managed to find the door without any assistance. Furthermore, he was shocked that Professor Snape had accepted his evidence so easily. He had expected to have to fight tooth and nail to get a passing grade based on his flimsy theory.

_It was almost as if he knew,_ Harry thought. _But that's not possible..._

Absently, Harry climbed the staircases to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't hear the shouting until he had almost reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Hermione, let go. This time he's gone too far. First he insulted you, now he's done something to make Ginny cry. He's got it coming!"

"Ron, butt out! Ginny doesn't want you picking a fight with Harry anymore than I do. They have to work it out on their own."

Harry gave the password to the Fat Lady, who was still sulking over his recent rudeness to her. When he stepped through the portrait hole, he found Ron and Hermione just a few feet away. Hermione was tugging as hard as she could on Ron's arm, obviously attempting to keep him from seeking Harry out.

"Here I am, Ron. Go ahead. Take your best shot. I deserve it." Harry threw his arms wide open and closed his eyes, bracing himself for either a right hook or a stinging hex. When the blow didn't come, he opened his eyes to find Ron contemplating him with an odd look on his face, before finally turning to his girlfriend.

"Hermione, Harry and I need to have a little chat. Don't even think about trying to follow us."

Hermione started to argue, but then held her tongue. "Fine. But I don't want to see any bruises, on either of you. Got it?"

"Right, love," Ron nodded solemnly. "I'll only bruise him where it doesn't show."

"Ron..." Hermione warned.

"I was joking! We're only going to talk, I swear." He kissed Hermione quickly, and she seemed to take this as reassurance.

Ron turned to Harry and motioned towards the portrait hole. They stepped through and walked through the corridors until Ron was satisfied they wouldn't be overheard. He stopped and stared at Harry for a long time, almost as if he didn't know him. Finally, when Harry had decided he couldn't stand the silence any longer, Ron spoke.

"Ginny doesn't cry. Ever. You know that, right?"

"I know," Harry admitted reluctantly, guilt creeping over him.

"What did you do to her?" Ron demanded.

"I was a complete bastard to her, but I'm going to fix it, I swear," Harry said, throwing up his hands in defense when Ron drew his wand. "I just need to know something first."

Ron scowled, but lowered his wand. "What do you want to know?"

"How...how does Ginny really feel about me?"

"Merlin, you really are thick, aren't you?" Ron shook his head unbelievingly. "And Hermione thought I was bad." Ron sighed and continued. "She loves you, Harry. I don't think she ever stopped."

"But Hermione said in fifth year..."

"Well, yeah. But that was different. She doesn't have a crush on you anymore, that part is true. She had a crush on The Boy Who Lived, and I think that died the night of the Yule Ball back in fourth year. She had a crush on a knight in shining armor, and you turned out to be merely human, like the rest of us. But Harry, she loves you."

"Why didn't she ever say anything?"

"What was she supposed to say? We all know the pressure you've been under. She didn't...she didn't want to burden you, or make you uncomfortable. Regardless of whatever else she may feel for you, she's your friend, you git. Probably the best friend you've got, except for Hermione and me, of course."

"She could have told me," Harry insisted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "When? After Sirius died? Or maybe after the attack on Hogsmeade last year? Or how about when Percy turned up with the Death Eaters? Yeah? How about then?"

Harry was silent.

"The point is, Harry, she thought you had more important things to worry about. I told her to tell you, but she wouldn't listen. Said you couldn't be bothered with something so frivolous as...." Ron trailed off.

"Love?" Harry asked in a choked voice.

"Yeah. Her words, not mine," Ron clarified. "She made me promise not to say anything to you, ever. She's watched you go out a few times with girls like Susan and Parvati, watched you treat them like afterthoughts. She was afraid that if by some chance you did return her affection, she'd wind up the same as them, and she couldn't stand that. She has too much pride. She's a Weasley, after all."

Ron was silent for a long moment. Harry was, too. Finally, Ron heaved another heavy sigh.

"Well, now you know. And I think it would be better for everyone if you just...leave off, Harry. Just let it be. She'll get over being angry in a few days, and then you'll be friends again."

_Let it be. Never tell her that I think that I could.... That I want to.... That she makes me feel...._

_No._

When Ron stared at him strangely, Harry realized he was shaking his head vehemently, and he tried to explain.

"I don't think I can do that, Ron. I really need to talk to her. I'm afraid...I'm pretty sure she's got the wrong idea about something, and I need to set her straight."

Ron eyed Harry, studying his face. Finally, he smiled faintly, as if he saw something that pleased him.

"All right, Harry. She went back to the Quidditch pitch a little while ago. Said she needed some air. But make no mistake. You may be my best mate, but Ginny's my sister. If you hurt her, you won't have to worry about Voldemort anymore, trust me."

"I understand," Harry replied solemnly. He shot Ron a grin and headed for the stairs, which he took two at a time all the way down to the ground floor. Then he sprinted out the main entrance and didn't stop until he reached the Quidditch pitch.

Ginny was there, just as Ron had promised. She was practicing with a Quaffle that she had charmed to return to her whenever she threw it through the hoops at the end of the pitch. Harry walked out to the middle of the pitch and seated himself in the grass, watching Ginny fly gracefully. He lost track of how much time passed before she finally noticed him and landed. She walked over to where he sat and stood in front of him, looking down at him scornfully.

"I don't want you here," she declared in a steely voice.

The butterflies Harry had felt before he had kissed her had returned once again, leaving him feeling queasy at the possibility that what he had to say might not make a difference. But he had to try.

"I don't blame you," he began nervously. "But I sort of had to come. There's something really important I need to tell you."

Ginny waited silently, and Harry's neck began to ache as he looked up at her, trying to screw up the courage to tell her what he needed her to know.

"Would you sit, please?"

Mutely, Ginny seated herself across from Harry, just out of arm's reach, and again waited for Harry to speak.

Harry swallowed nervously. _What if I'm wrong? What if Ginny Weasley just happens to be the only witch in the world to be immune to Imitor Ardoris? What if she laughs at me?_

_Don't be a git, Harry. She's waiting._

He had waited too long. Ginny began to get her feet. "I don't have time for this. I've got a Charms essay to finish," she said coldly.

"Wait, Ginny, please," Harry pleaded.

Ginny stilled and sank back down on her knees. She appeared ready to bolt at any minute, and she visibly flinched under Harry's scrutiny. She looked down at the ground and began pulling at tufts of dry grass. Harry noticed her hands were callused, like his, from hours of practice with the Quaffle while wearing Quidditch gloves. Her nails were short and bare, unlike Lavender's and Parvati's. Harry slid his fingers under hers and absently ran his thumb over her knuckles. When he looked up at Ginny, her eyes were fixed on their hands; hers was trembling in his. Harry thought his own might be trembling, too.

"Ginny," he began again, and when she looked up at him, he continued, "I've been a complete prat the past few days."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Yes, you have."

"Probably longer."

She arched an eyebrow. "I won't argue with that."

"And I know I'd deserve it if you really never spoke to me again." When Ginny remained silent, Harry steeled himself and continued. "I...I hope you won't, though. Stop speaking to me, I mean. Well, you already did, but I hoped you might start again."

A faint smile began in the corner of Ginny's mouth, and Harry looked down, undecided if he should be encouraged or embarrassed.

"Bollocks. I've never been very good at this kind of thing," Harry muttered.

Ginny's hand closed around his own, and she squeezed gently. Harry looked up to find that she was watching him now, and the look he had seen in her eyes that morning, just before he'd kissed her, was back. His breath caught in his throat, and all the pretty words he wanted to say to her disintegrated. He struggled to find a way to make her understand. Her steady gaze unnerved him, so he focused on the Quidditch hoops over her shoulder in the distance. He knew he'd never tell her what she needed to hear if he kept looking at her, looking back at him.

"You chew on the tips of your quills when you're nervous, and you twirl a strand of hair around your finger when you're studying for a test," he said softly. He risked a glance at Ginny; she appeared puzzled, but she was still listening. He took a deep breath and plunged onward.

"Your favorite Bertie Bott's beans are the grass flavored ones. You drink your butterbeer cold instead of hot. You like tulips better than roses. You've been sneaking your brothers' brooms out of the shed when they weren't looking since you were old enough to walk. You hate Arithmancy, you love Charms, you have exactly seven freckles on your nose, and you have the cutest little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're looking at me like I'm nutters."

Ginny's free hand drifted to her face to rub at the crease as Harry continued.

"I like it when I find you waiting for me in the common room before breakfast in the mornings. I like that I know your schedule each day without even having to think about it. I like that you're the only person with enough nerve to tell me off when I'm being a prat. I _hate_ watching Colin Creevey even _breathing_ anywhere near you. I like watching you at Quidditch practice when you're not looking. I like sitting next to you on the sofa in the common room in the evenings when you're studying. I love the way your hands feel in mine, the way you tasted when I kissed you, and I hate that it took me so long to figure out that I..."

Harry didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Ginny leaned over and cupped his face in her hand as she pressed her lips against his. Harry's heart drummed rapidly in his chest in relief and exhilaration. He slid his hands into the soft curtain of her hair, then snaked an arm around her waist and yanked her to him because she seemed so far away. She collapsed against him with a soft sigh, twining her arms about his neck and holding on as if she were drowning and he was a life preserver. When she slipped her hands down to his waist and then up under his jumper to caress the bare skin of his back, a deep rumble of pure pleasure sounded somewhere inside of Harry that he couldn't and didn't want to stifle. Ginny giggled softly against his mouth in delight and gently nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. The rumble became a distinct growl of possessiveness, and Harry rolled her over so that her back was pressed into the soft turf beneath them. In response, Ginny only clung more tightly as he dipped into the sweet warmth of her mouth, marveling at the intimacy of holding her like this. He felt as if he could never get enough, but at the same time, it was almost too much. It couldn't possibly be happening.

Harry broke the kiss and stared at her lying beneath him; her hair was tousled where he had run his hands through it and her lips were red from his kisses. His hand drifted up to her face, where his knuckles lightly brushed against her jaw.

Almost fearfully, he asked, "Is this real? Do you really...." he trailed off in a low voice, unable to voice the question. What if the answer was no?

Ginny caught his hand and slid her fingers in between his and squeezed gently, but hard enough to remind him that yes, she really was there.

"Of course I do," she answered softly. In response, Harry released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as relief flooded him with warmth.

"Ginny, I have to tell you..." he began, but she shushed him by pressing her fingers against his lips.

"No, you don't, Harry. I already know," she murmured softly as she touched her lips to his once more.


	6. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

The two professors sat opposite each other, contemplating the chessboard on the table between them. A tea service had been placed nearby on a rolling cart, replete with finger sandwiches and baked goods. Severus Snape sniffed disdainfully at the sweets and poured himself a cup of tea as he awaited his opponent's next move.

Albus Dumbledore smiled bemusedly at the white pieces spread before him, many of which were boisterously calling conflicting instructions to him. His queen, however, had folded her arms across her ample bosom and was tapping her foot impatiently. When Dumbledore ignored her, she threw her arms up and began patting her head with her hands.

"What was that? Yes, yes, I believe it was yet another _grey hair_ springing up from my head," she complained sarcastically.

Dumbledore showed no reaction other than a slight twinkling in his eyes. He folded his hands and steepled his index fingers against his mouth. Finally, the queen stamped her foot in exasperation and pointed at one of the black pieces across the board. "Checkmate in two moves, you barmy old coot! Can we get on with it, please, before arthritis sets in and I'm forced to hobble across the board with a _cane?"_

"Very well, my dear, if you insist."

Dumbledore tapped the impatient piece with his wand. She gathered her skirts in one hand and marched haughtily towards one of Snape's quivering pawns. With a gleam in her eye, she produced a broadsword from the folds of her petticoats; then, with a mighty heave, she cleaved the unfortunate pawn in two. Her bloodlust quenched for the moment, the queen replaced the sword, then viciously kicked the cloven pieces off the board. Finally, she turned and pointed audaciously at Snape's king, who had been watching the exchange with an air of boredom, just a few spaces out of reach.

"You're mine," she promised. "I've been waiting for this a long time."

"Yes, I'll bet you have," the king wisecracked.

He nodded at a bishop standing unobtrusively to one side of a pawn. Before the queen could react, the bishop slid up to the queen and skewered her.

_"Aiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"_ she screamed; then she fell to the board and lay still.

"Dear me, Severus. I fear you have me at a disadvantage," Dumbledore said in an airy manner.

"So it would seem," Snape agreed. "Really, Albus, you could have warned her."

"I've discovered that it's often best to let a woman have her way," Dumbledore replied. "Particularly a shrill, harridan of a woman."

"Indeed," Snape replied. After taking a sip of tea, he abruptly changed the subject. "Are you pleased with the outcome of the Potions midterm examinations?"

"Most pleased. Thank you for your assistance in the matter, Severus."

"I still think it would have been best not to interfere," Snape said icily as he set his cup and saucer down with a clatter.

"Ordinarily I would agree with you, Severus," Dumbledore acknowledged placidly. "But I don't believe we were interfering in this matter...simply applying a catalyst in order to hasten a process that had already been set into motion."

"I don't claim to understand how the resolution of the angst-ridden desires of Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter can be expected to affect the outcome of the final battle one way or the other," Snape mused drily.

"If you don't yet understand, Severus, I'm afraid I have little hope of explaining it to you." Dumbledore looked up, a question apparent in his eyes. "By the way, how _did_ you ensure that Mr. Potter would be the one to draw _Imitor Ardoris_ for his midterm?"

Snape appeared uncomfortable. "I charmed the slips of paper. _Imitor Ardoris_ was the only one he would have been able to grasp."

"Stooping to foolish wand-waving and incantations? How quaint. And how did you manage to have Miss Weasley ingest the potion?"

"If she hadn't already drunk the brew, I simply would have commanded her to be his test subject when they arrived at my office. Not surprisingly, Potter managed that through his own ineptitude," Professor Snape said with his usual sneer.

"Ah. How fortuitous." Dumbledore stroked his beard as he carefully considered his next move. "By the way, Severus, I wonder if you can help solve a mystery for me."

"What mystery would that be, headmaster?"

"One of the house elves, Winky, seems to have become rather attached to Mr. Potter as of late. Dobby tells me she's quite smitten. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Professor Dumbledore asked innocently before selecting a sherbet lemon from a dish on the tray.

Snape's eyes grew large, but he managed to respond as if the question hadn't affected him in the least.

"No, headmaster. I can't imagine what might have gotten into her."

"It's very strange. Dobby seems to think she began acting strangely after consuming a bottle of snozzberry butterbeer. I didn't even know they made snozzberry flavored butterbeer. I'll have to give it a try next time I'm in the Three Broomsticks."

Dumbledore touched another piece with his wand, and as it scurried forward to do his bidding, he looked up at Snape. "Your move."

* * *

**A/N:** I borrowed/received inspiration from several sources at certain points in this fic. Namely, Harry's speech to Ginny at the end is inspired by Harry's to Sally at the end of the movie "When Harry Met Sally" (and the wrinkle in the forehead is taken directly from that scene). I also borrowed a bit of Han and Greedo's exchange in the Cantina from Star Wars for the chess battle at the end. As for the title of the story, it's a song by the Cardigans, and for some reason, when I originally wrote this story, it seemed to fit. Oh, and snozzberries are, of course, property of Willy Wonka.


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